


The Plot Thickens

by bushidobunny, HawkizeFanfiction



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Sex, Assault, BDSM, Blood, Character Death, Codependency, Consensual Kink, Consensual Non-Consent, Death, Depression, Domestic Violence, Drug Use, Gore, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Murder, NSFW Art, Oral Sex, Overdosing, Panic Attacks, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Harm, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Torture, ZaDr, criminal activity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-01 12:13:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 168,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16284425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bushidobunny/pseuds/bushidobunny, https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawkizeFanfiction/pseuds/HawkizeFanfiction
Summary: It had been six years since graduation. Six years since Zim had disappeared without a trace. Life has been rough, to say the least, for Dib Membrane. The night that he believes that his story has come to a close is when the story truly begins.





	1. Chapter 1

Dib moves slowly as he wakes from a long nap, struggling, as usual, to just get out of bed. Each movement is long and lumbering, but finally he slides off the bed to stand, and stretch, and decide what to do with the rest of his day.

He decides there isn’t going to be another. He makes his way to the kitchen, grabs a bottle of vodka. Grabs a pouch of coke. A single rolled joint. A cigarette. Final indulgences.

Just as slowly, he makes his way out of the small studio apartment, onto his balcony. He stares out into the setting sun, as the stars begin to flicker along the clouds, and looks down into the quieting streets ten storeys below.

Dib sits, still shirtless and in his boxers, hanging his legs between the bars of the banister and absorbing the rest of the day’s sunlight. He checks his phone, to see if anything came through on tumblr. Nothing had.

He takes a swig from the bottle of vodka, followed by another, and a third. He delicately shakes some of the white powder onto the back of his left hand and inhales it sharply, followed by another. He lights the joint, and lays back, taking his time as he smokes, staring at the bottom of the balcony above him.

Once finished, he lights the cigarette and takes another long swig from the vodka.

Today, Dib decides, he would take his life.

He did not know how long had passed. Days bled into weeks which bled into months and years. It seemed that for an eternity his view had been white walls, sterile medical equipment and humans in biohazard suits. His only break from agonizing pain and cruel experiments at the hands of these men and women were the hours that he was left in complete isolation, the only break in silence his own heartbeat on a monitor and, on occasion, his sobs when his composure would break.

The night of his escape was a blur. He recalled being removed from his restraints to be exposed to one of their “hydro-weapons” which they were developing for use against his race after finding out how adversely water affected him. But after that, he could recall very little. He knew there was stumbling through trees and wilderness, the groundcover biting into the soles of his bare feet as he ran, his white smock covered in a substance that was too dark and smelled too much like iron to be his own blood.

He vaguely remembered digging his claws into the skin of his neck to pull out a tracking device and throwing it into a rushing river. He could almost recall using a small tracer that had remained hidden in the codes that made his PAK function to home in on the one person on this ball of dirt that might help him.

What Zim could recall perfectly was the signal he put out emitting what seemed like an almost deafening series of beeps as he approached a towering human dwelling, signaling that he has found his query.  As if it also signaled the end of his endurance, the Irken remembered the sensation of the concrete rushing up to meet him as he passed out in the parking lot.

Dib decidedly fucked enough to end his life of wallowing in his own pity, in the loss of Zim and cryptozoology and science, sat up and took a final hard swig of the vodka. Long and deep, before he pulled himself up and stood. It was time. Enough is enough.

He began to pull himself up onto the black metal balcony, looking down into his building’s parking lot–

What? Dib stared, blearily, through glasses and down ten storeys, in awe. What was that? Someone was lying in the parking lot. No… There was no way. It couldn’t be. It was impossible. But it looked just like–he needed to be sure.

Dib ripped himself down from the banister, stumbling and bleary, crashing into the door on his way in. This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t real. He tugged his clothes on quickly, shaking, sure that he was way too high and must be hallucinating. There was no other way.

Dib took the stairs, and ran through the building, out the front doors, toward the body, before he slowed down. Still unsure, still not believing his own vision, he kneeled down and gently turned the green body, covered in his own and human blood. Shaking, Dib gently touched his face. He needed to see his eyes.

“Zim?”

The Irken vaguely heard the crunching of gravel as rapid footfalls rushed toward him. His antenna twitched at the sound, but it was the only movement he could manage. He could not even fight against being turned over.

At the sound of his name he forced his eyes open slightly. It took a few blinks for the boy’s face to come into focus. He had aged. His skin was not flawless and smooth as it was the last time they spoke. It had a waxy sheen and he needed to shave. But his eyes, while bloodshot, were still the color of honey.

He groaned in pain as he lifted an arm to touch Dib’s cheek with the tips of his fingers. He needed to make sure that what he was seeing was real. His voice cracked from years of going unused, but he managed to reply weakly, “Hi, Stinky.”

Dib stared at the Irken in shock and horror and awe for a brief moment, felt the once soft skin of his fingertips against his cheek, saw the glossy, deep-red eyes that he had memorized–every expression–and knew at once this was Zim. His Zim. The only one that had mattered, despite meeting a great many others thanks to this ‘multiverse’.

He was here, and–

In an instant, Dib’s instincts kicked in. Muscle memory and routine, and he knew he had to get the Irken out of sight.

“I’m picking you up, we gotta get inside,” Dib said as he scooped Zim into shaking arms. He could barely hold his own balance, but Zim was out of his disguise and looked far worse for wear. All that mattered was him. He couldn’t be seen out here. Dib fumbled with his keys, got the door open, and again raced the stairs to get back to his apartment.

Dib was immediately embarrassed to have Zim here, in all its bachelor glory–clothes on the floor, empty bottles of booze on most surfaces, discarded cigarette packs, and coke remnants on a wide number of flat surfaces. Dib rushed Zim to the bed and laid him down, sitting next to him. His heart pounded in the back of his throat. He had so many questions he was too fucked to ask, and Zim was too weak to answer.

Zim groaned in pain as he was lifted easily into the human’s grip. He wrapped his arms loosely around Dib’s neck in an attempt to stop the sudden shift from making him pass out again, which was a real possibility.

The way he shifted as Dib ran and stumbled made him feel like he was about to be sick, so he tucked his face against the boy and shut his eyes firmly to block out the sensations. It gave him the opportunity to just breathe. Finally safe, finally with Dib. When he breathed, he could smell the familiar perfume of the boy’s skin. It was masked by blood, both the coppery bitterness of human and the sickly sweet of Irken. It was also altered by astringent chemical smells that Zim couldn’t immediately identify and it had likely been awhile since the boy had bothered to shower, but beneath all that, it smelled like Dib.

His body naturally tensed as he was laid in the bed, having grown accustomed to nearly every surface he came into contact with causing him pain. But after just a moment, he relaxed into the soft material. He took a few more moments of silence, his mind finally recognizing the way that every inch of his body ached from his unruly flight. Letting out a deep breath he opened his eyes once again and searched out his companion.

He was never one to admit any kind of weakness. There were so many things he wanted to say in that moment that were incredibly weak. He wanted to apologize, to explain what happened, to beg for forgiveness. But true to Zim fashion he managed an extremely feeble smile and commented almost casually, “You look like you had a really rough night, Dib.”

Dib immediately released a breath he didn’t realize he was harboring, waiting for Zim to open his eyes again. Waiting to make sure he was alive enough, to make sure–

It was definitely Zim. Dib next breath released a weak chuckle at Zim’s words. He managed to roll his eyes, and absently adjusted his glasses as he became hyperaware of the fact that he looked nothing like the boy Zim left those years ago. He was nothing like that boy anymore.

“Same to you, space-boy.” Dib’s voice was a whisper, too scared to break the illusion, too scared to believe it was real. He reached out again, hesitantly, touching Zim’s jaw, really looking at him, really feeling him there.

All Dib wanted was to scream, and to cry, and to hold Zim tight and close and never let him go again. He wanted to kiss him, take his pain away, and live the life they should have had together. He wanted to hate Zim for leaving, wanted to ask, how dare you leave me like that, when everything mattered so much? He could feel his heart breaking again, and the reality sobered him far more than time could.

Dib stood quickly, moved away. “You’re a mess,” he muttered as he grabbed a clean rag to remove as much of the blood as he could. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get it all, he didn’t have what Zim needed and water wouldn’t work, but it would help. He sat back down next to Zim, but with distance this time, as he cleaned the blood off the alien. “Who’d you kill?”

Zim offered no protest against the assessment of his current situation. He had not had the opportunity to inspect the damage, but he was sure that ‘a mess’ was a fair description of the state of him. He flinched when the rag first came into contact with his skin, but it did not burn, it did not sting. It took him quite a few seconds to relax again but eventually he was able to simply submit to the gentle touch.

At the question Zim turned his head away from the boy, focusing instead on the blank wall beside him. After a beat or two of hesitation he answered truthfully, “I don’t know… Anyone I needed to.” After a couple more seconds he added, “No one that didn’t deserve it.”

Regardless of the pain that shot through his body the Irken forced himself to sit up, hissing through gritted teeth at the agony of it. He had to breathe sharply through the sensation and force himself to stay upright. But finally, he looked back at the human. He had spent countless hours of his isolation running through what this conversation would look like in his mind. Granted, in most of them his entrance was not nearly as pathetic as this. But now that he was here, with Dib, all of his rehearsals and logical reasoning seemed to fail him.

“How long was I gone?”

Dib sighed at Zim’s response to his question, and immediately regretted asking. He wanted to put his shirt and sweater on, hide himself from Zim, but he also couldn’t bring himself to move away again.

It was odd seeing him like this. Weak and frail. Without his bursting personality he seemed so much smaller. All Dib wanted to do was protect him, hide him away from the world until he was back to himself, until his Zim was his again.

“Hey, careful,” Dib muttered. He helped the Irken up and placed a thick, fluffy pillow between his back and the headboard so that he could sit up with far less effort. He had never imagined seeing Zim again, not after a few years. After he moved out and gave everything up, the idea of Zim coming back seemed so far-fetched and unnatural. Any time he’d listened into space, hearing no trace left by Irkens, he’d just lost more and more faith.

And now, here they were, and Dib did not know how to react. “About six years,” he said and asked, tripping over his own words, “Zim–god, w-what happened to you?”

Six years. Six fucking years of his life had been stolen away from him. Six years that were once destined to be some of the best ones in his long and meaningless life.

He brought his hands up, rubbing his face wearily. There was so much that needed to be said. But where to start, that was the tricky part.

He dropped his hands and relaxed against the pillow that the boy provided to him. “I didn’t leave you by choice, Dib. I need you to know that. “

He found that it was hard to look at the human again, so instead he kept his eyes trained downward at his hands. “I walked away from you that day. I lost my mind, I know that. But I was coming back… I got caught the next day. Three blocks from your house.”

The alien glanced at the boy, but quickly averted his gaze again. He could feel his body betraying him, his breath becoming ragged as he spoke and mutinous tears threatening to fall, but Dib had to know. “I went and got my stupid job back. I bought a stupid flower. I was coming to your house to accept your offer. But these vans came out of nowhere. I was distracted.   I let my guard down … I did not want this to happen.”

He got… caught? Dib stared at Zim in shock and horror, reassessing Zim’s appearance and looking him up and down. They could have spent the last six years happily together and it was ripped from their fingers… Rage bubbled up from the pit of Dib’s stomach. Fury and regret, and self-hatred for the last six years. He should have looked harder. He should have tried harder.

“Who? Who took you? What did they do to you?” Forgetting himself, Dib took Zim’s hands and as gently but as quickly as he could, looking over Zim’s body. Scars of water-burns. The blood on the back of Zim’s neck–carefully, Dib turned the Irken to examine the claw marks, where he had dug out the device as he ran. “What about your disguise? Who did this? Where?”

Dib listened to the rest of what Zim had to say, and he wanted to sob. One big stupid fight, so close to having everything, and Zim–oh, his poor Zim, six years ago, coming back to him. For six years Dib had blamed him, and then blamed himself. For six years he tried to block out the memories of their time together, block out the fact that he risked everything and Zim turned him down. Now, Dib wanted to throw up, and murder anyone who dared to lay a hand on him.

“I’m sorry.”

Zim let Dib turn his head and move his body with gentle fingers. He gave a weak shrug and sighed, “It was never a great disguise. You always said so…”

He shifted his head again to let Dib inspect some other wound and continued, “I think they disassembled GIR to study his parts. When they figured out how quickly Zim’s PAK regenerated wounds they studied that. How they could use water and other weapons against the Armada were there ever to be a real invasion.”

The last words held venom in them, but he didn’t elaborate, instead he focused on Dib and the attentive concern he was giving him. He knew exactly who had taken him, but he did not think Dib was ready to hear it just yet and so he replied, “I don’t know where. A bunker somewhere. With government mens and scientists.”

At the human’s apology Zim brought a hand up to tentatively grip the much larger human hand. “Dib does not need to be sorry. Zim is- I… I am sorry.”

Dib sighed softly, finally wrapping his arms around Zim and pulling him into a tight hug, now that he knew the Irken was healing and wasn’t too badly damaged–at least not physically.

“I swear to you, Zim, I’ll find out who they are, and where. I’ll kill them if I have to get them off your case,” Dib slowly pulled back. “And no, it wasn’t a very good disguise,” he offered Zim a weak smile. “Don’t be sorry now. We’ve spent enough fucking time being sorry.”

Dib took a deep breath, grabbing one of his smokes from the pack on his nightstand, fishing in his pocket for his lighter. “I’m thankful you’re here. That you survived. I’m sorry to hear about GIR–did they…did they remove your PAK?”

Dib thought back to the last time, and the only time, he ever saw Zim without his PAK. It still gave him nightmares to think about. There were so many things flooding his mind, so many questions. He didn’t know what to do with himself, so he smoked.

The Irken let himself be pulled into the hug, savoring it. Soon Dib had partially released him and pulled the cigarette out, lighting it. Zim instantly recognized the smell as one of the chemically ones that made the boy smell less Dib-like.  

His face wrinkled slightly at the smell, but that was the only protest he offered. Instead he shifted himself to allow him to comfortably rest his head against the boy’s shoulder.

“Many times,” he answered honestly. He let the answer hang at just that, not wanting to delve into the memories of GIR or of his body and mind repeatedly decaying to near death before the professor and his scientists would reattach the tech to him. As he leaned against the human he glanced down, eyeing the smears of crimson on the once pristine smock he wore. He hoped momentarily that it belonged to one of those scientists.

He pressed his face more firmly against the boy’s neck and asked with concern, “What about you, Dib? What has happened to you?”

Dib let Zim lean into his shoulder and neck, and he kept one arm around the Irken to keep him close. He didn’t press for more details–he was sure Zim was traumatized, and he didn’t want to know all of the gory bits anyway. They’d have to get changed soon, clean off the dirt and blood, wash the sheets. Anything Dib gave Zim to wear would be too big on him. He didn’t have anything he could eat here, so he’d actually have to leave the apartment…

For now, Dib just wanted to stay with him. Keep him close. “Oh, Zim… nothing happened to me. Or, maybe I did–” he flushed trying to explain himself. He felt like he was sixteen again, unable to communicate adequately and being stared at while he blabbered. “I don’t know. I gave up, I guess, after you left. I couldn’t stomach being home with Dad and Gaz, so I moved out, and–ah. I don’t leave much anymore except to buy–”

Dib stopped himself, inhaling deeply on his cigarette, looking away from Zim but leaning into him, resting his cheek on the top of Zim’s head. “I… got a tattoo to remind me of you.”

Fuck. He couldn’t just be normal, could he?

Zim was not quite prepared for the scratchy feeling of the human’s stubble pressing against him. It was not inherently terrible, simply a different sensation than what he remembered. It made him smile. He could actually get used to the scratchy sensation if he had the opportunity to. He brought a hand up, letting it rest affectionately on Dib’s chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat beneath his palm.

The state of the boy was a little alarming for him. He knew that as of this moment his own condition was more severe, but he would heal quickly enough. Dib, however, looked as though he had been ill for far too long. Thin and haggard. He knew there was more than what the human volunteered immediately, but he did not press. Dib would tell him in good time.

He had almost forgotten what it felt like to be close to the human like this. There had been a time, all those years ago, that they had surpassed their roles as enemies. Blurred the lines of friends. They stole moments like this when they could. It had been nice then, even if Zim often referred to it as ‘disgusting human affection’ and only ever admitted to doing it for Dib’s sake. He had missed it very much. They had so much potential beyond what they were.

This could have been their home. Their life.

At Dib’s final statement Zim asked curiously, “You marked your flesh for me?”

This was nice. This moment, having Zim here against his shoulder, leaning into one another. He finished his cigarette, coughing gently, as he snuffed it in the ashtray on the nightstand. He had to lean to do so, but instead of separating from Zim again, he gently pulled the Irken with him. He didn’t want to be apart from him right now.

He felt as haggard as he looked, still a little drunk and stoned, the substances coursing their way through his system on their way out. It’d been almost six years of addiction–he felt uncomfortable in his own skin with Zim there against him, and he could feel in his stomach the growing urge to do a line about it. Still, he didn’t want to move away. Now that he finally had Zim back, he wasn’t letting go again, and he would find out who did this.

“I did, yeah. On my back if you can see,” Dib turned slightly, making sure to be in contact with the Irken the whole time. The deep black of the Defective symbol stood out sharply between his shoulder blades, centered at the nape of his neck, separated from the cartoonish imagery of the cryptids on his right and realism of ‘Real Science’ on his left. “What do you think?” They’d save the serious conversations for when they were both clean, sober, and feeling better.

Catching the Irken’s eyes again, Dib really, really wanted to kiss him.

Zim glanced at him as Dib moved to show him the marking and when he caught sight of the defective symbol, he shifted the hand that was on the boy’s chest to the back of his neck, pulling his head downwards a bit firmly to inspect the designs further. This led to an inspection of the other markings. The Irken slipped into Dib’s lap and began moving his arms to inspect them, running his bruised fingers over the designs.

There were many of the designs that made perfect sense to him, most of them belonging on the “real science” arm. The arm decorated in cryptids was far more mysterious to him and more of his attention was focused on it. His fingers paused on one in particular.

“I know this one.” he mused quietly before shifting his focus to Dib’s face and giving him a soft smile. “This one is the nock-less monster fish.”

Dib let himself be a little manhandled as Zim adjusted and inspected his tattoos. He laughed softly as the Irken did so. He felt light and warm from the affections, even at being contorted into odd directions.

Nock-less monster fish? Dib couldn’t help but giggle to that as Zim made his way into his lap. Dib reached up to caress Zim’s face. He adored this space idiot. Everything he’d felt up until he left had all come rushing back and left him feeling full and his heart racing. “It’s the Loch Ness Monster, and she isn’t a fish, but I’m glad you remember. She’s always been a favourite.”

Dib took a moment to stare at Zim–really look at him now that they were comfortable and close. The big red eyes, now full of life again and glittering up at him. The smile. His antennae relaxed, one slightly bent now, the sight of it putting a lump in Dib’s throat. His poor boy.

Still holding Zim, one arm wrapped around him to tug him close and the other resting on his cheek, Dib leaned in slightly. It was always a bit task to get Zim to kiss him before, though they had many times–Irken reservations probably–but he hoped. He didn’t want to move too fast after Zim returning, but… he so badly wanted to.

Zim had intended to return to his inspection of the tattoos, but he was halted by the press of Dib’s fingers on his face. It was almost like being back before any of this had happened to them. Back when they would spend long evenings together, their assignments sprawled out across Dib’s bedroom floor and entirely ignored, some rerun of Dib’s mystery show playing in the background while the human stole kisses from him.

He had always protested against human affection. Irkens simply did not do any of these things. Affection was a sign of being defective, as was dependency and love. It wasn’t until it was far too late that he realized that being a defective Irken was better than the alternative.

He felt a small pang of guilt as he returned the look that Dib gave him. He had always made him work so hard for any returned affections. He had never made it easy for him. He insulted and degraded this boy ceaselessly. And yet, here was. Even now, after all this time, after being shot down and abandoned… Dib was showing him unwavering devotion.

The Irken hesitated for just a moment before leaning forward enough to press their lips together in an uncertain kiss.

When Zim kissed him, Dib was far more startled than he expected himself to be. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t expect Zim to accept the kiss, nevermind the initiative. Dib’s hand moved out of the way, off Zim’s cheek to gently grip the back of his neck. As gentle and uncertain as the kiss was, it felt like a long-awaited apology. Cautious, but necessary.

He could feel his stubble rough against Zim’s skin, and it was an odd but not unwelcome feeling–he hoped it wasn’t for Zim, either and that he wasn’t scratching him too much. Once he’d started losing weight, he tended to keep some stubble as it kept him from looking so sickly thin. The rest he covered with clothes or stayed home.

After all this time, Zim had returned to him. Covered in blood and traumatized, Dib was sure, but here, in his arms, in his lap, kissing him. It was all he could have ever dreamed of and more. Every time his anger bubbled up, it fell away when he felt him or heard his voice now that he’d come back. Dib almost wanted to thank him.

After a few moments, squeezing Zim to him as if to make sure he was real, even still, after pulling away from their kiss to pepper more along Zim’s jaw and down his neck, breathing Zim in, Dib finally pulled back at the strong metallic scent and the stickiness of the blood coming off the smock onto him.

“Ah. We gotta get you cleaned up. Myself and these sheets too. Do you have enough strength to stand while I get you clothes and change these sheets?” Shit. Did he even have a second set?

Zim relaxed, letting Dib pull him closer and deepen the kiss before his affections became more curious, exploring his neck and jaw. All of this still felt so surreal, so much so that Zim wondered more than once if his mind had finally just broken and retreated into hallucinations to cope with the atrocities he had gone through. The reassurance of Dib’s touch helped to keep him grounded in those moments.

His brow furrowed, and antennae twitched in confusion as Dib pulled away from him, but at the statement he looked down and silently agreed that it was for the best. The blood on him had managed to get just about everywhere.

The Irken nodded lightly and supplied, “I will manage.” His PAK legs slipped out of their confines and helped to lift him away from the boy and into a standing position on the floor beside the bed. All of it with very little actual effort on his part. He scuttled backward a few steps to allow Dib to also move, doing his best to avoid the dirty laundry and trash on the floor.

This was the first time that Zim actually had a chance to look at the room he was in. The level of mess and possibility of hostile germs were a little jarring. As he looked at the floor his PAK legs, not so subtly, lifted him a few additional inches upward, letting his feet dangle freely above the floor, safely away from the questionable carpet.

Dib glanced over at Zim as the PAK legs came out and lifted him up. He was thankful for the PAK in this moment, but it couldn’t help but stir up memories of their fights. Even after they became friends, and then lovers, once in a while they’d still end up wrestling. It was a good way to get out frustrations. When they were younger, though, the amount of time those metal legs instilled fear he couldn’t count.

Dib followed Zim’s motions, standing, and hesitantly placing a soft kiss on Zim’s forehead now that he was up higher. His face flushed, “I’m sorry, I know this place is a bit of a ‘sty right now.” He quickly tugged the bedding off the bed, collecting them with the clothes on the floor and tossing them into the hamper that had remained untouched for months. When did he last do laundry? After, he tugged open the drawers in his dresser, digging for a few moments until he found something Zim could wear.

“These are older, they might fit you a little better?” He posed this as a question as he passed one of his old tees and a pair of plain grey pajama pants. He normally slept nude or in his boxers, now, and he hadn’t touched these in ages. “I’m just going to clean up a bit and then take a quick shower–do you have anything to get the rest of the dried blood off your skin?” He realized, now, he was talking to fill the discomfort, the silence, trying to fill the space in the room. Zim’s presence was overwhelming after so much time spent alone, thinking he was gone–or worse. “I would’ve tidied before you showed up, but clearly, I wasn’t expecting company.” Oh, God, too soon for that joke, Dib.

As he waited for Zim’s response, and for him to change, unsure if he should be present to witness and not wanting to intrude, Dib fished in the cupboards for a garbage bag for the trash and bottles. It still wouldn’t get the place clean by any stretch of the imagination, but it would do.

He felt the pouch of coke in the palm of his hand before he’d realized he’d picked it up.

Zim accepted the kiss on his forehead with a small grin. But soon his attention was back on his surroundings, taking in the whole of the dingy studio apartment as he moved to the side, allowing Dib past him. Now that Dib was standing and Zim was not as delirious he noticed how tall the boy had gotten.

Even with Earth’s gravity allowing Zim to grow, the Irken had never quite made it past five feet tall. By the time they were in hi Skool, Dib was taller than him. It was a point of contention for a while. But then Zim grew to appreciate it. And it seemed he had not stopped growing into adulthood.

He accepted the bundle of clothes, recognizing the t-shirt as one that Dib had in Skool, and held them some distance away from him to prevent them from being soiled. He gave a half shrug and replied, “I don’t have any kind of anythings at all.”

The Irken glanced around the room, looking for something in the piles that would work as a cleaning agent without boiling his skin. At Dib’s attempt at humor Zim quipped in a playfully sarcastic tone that very nearly sounded like himself, “Next time I make a daring escape from a governments laboratory I will call ahead, Dib-thing.”

He spotted a half a bottle of some clear booze on a crowded table and plucked it away from the rest of the mess, “This will work.”

He turned his attention back to Dib, shaking the bottle in almost triumphant manner. When he did so he saw the tiny pouch in his hand. His initial thought was that Dib had a bag of fun-dip. But there was no stick to dip. And it was a silly amount of fun-dip to start with. Hardly a snack, certainly not a meal. Then a memory from Skool surfaced. A memory of the school’s catch-all mascot, Poop Dawg lecturing them through video about the importance of avoiding drugs. This was a lesson that he had thought was silly. Why would anyone, even stupid Earth monkeys, take these things that kill them in slow and horrific fashion? He then began to spot the residue on surfaces around him and recognized the vast number of empty bottles that littered the room.

He clicked his tongue thoughtfully in a moment of understanding before slipping on the grey pajama bottoms, which had to be synched as tightly as possible to stay on his hips. He pulled off the smock which was promptly thrown in the trash, exposing his scarred and blood-stained chest. Zim moved back to the sheet-free bed, sitting down on the edge and letting his PAK legs retract while he cleaned himself off. The alien found the rag Dib had used earlier and soaked it in the liquid. It smelled awful, but it did not burn him to touch.

As he wiped his chest down, he looked up at the human and asked, “When you said that you happened to you. Do you mean that… not fun-dip in your hand?”

Dib managed a chuckle when he heard Zim’s joke in return, cringing at the harsh reality that of course Zim didn’t have anything, but at least he was beginning to sound like himself again. “Glad you found something,” he was thankful and starting to feel more awake, and he set about beginning to tidy, not worrying about his own clothes until he got in the shower but froze dead in his tracks at Zim’s final question. Shit.

With a visible cringe, Dib slipped the pouch into his pocket, holding the garbage bag in his hand and turning to Zim, jaw dropping when he saw the scars littered along his chest, and released an audible gasp. His chest tightened, and a lump rose in his throat, keeping him silent for much longer than necessary. He wasn’t avoiding the question, but the encompassing rage he felt at the sight of his once-almost-lover’s body littered in the horror of the last six years was insurmountable.

With a deep breath to try and calm himself—Zim didn’t need to deal with that anger, because of course he wasn’t angry at Zim anymore, he continued picking up the trash and bottles. He had become hyperaware of the fact that cocaine residue littered a large number of surfaces in the apartment, along with the remnants of weed and tobacco. Of course, Zim would have seen, would have smelled it, and would have commented. Did Dib really think he wouldn’t? It wasn’t exactly something that was easy to hide. He’d been the only person to step foot in this apartment once he got the keys and moved in.

He’d just been about to—

“Definitely not fun-dip. It started maybe two years after you left,” Dib decided to speak while he cleaned. Bare it all, right? “Just weed and smoking. I mean I started drinking right away, but that was nothing. The longer I spent feeling like that, the worse it got. I moved on to heavier shit…” he trailed off, placing the now-full garbage bag near the door, moving back to Zim, dragging a finger along an old DVD case smattered in the powder and touching it to his tongue. “Once I started, I couldn’t stop. Or, didn’t want to maybe.”

It was all self-harm, all part of the depression.

Oversleeping, loss of motivation and energy, lost interest in things he’d once enjoyed. The drugs, the drinking, the smoking, the razorblades. It was all leading up to today, and today Zim comes back? He could almost call it an act of God. Almost. He was smart enough to know that addictions don’t drop when the person you missed comes back into your life. This wasn’t a sitcom.

“As always, impeccable timing, Zim. You’ve found me at my worst… and how did you find me?”

Zim eyed the small pouch as it was slipped into the human’s pocket and out of sight. He had very little room to actually chastise Dib for the ways that he decided to cope. This boy’s life was dedicated   to him for years. The context of that dedication shifted from vows to defeat him and ruin his plans instead to vows to be at his side, while not so gently hinting that genocide was not okay and that regardless of how they felt he was not going to let Zim destroy his planet. In the later years though, Zim’s plans for world domination seemed to ebb into plans that merely made him a nuisance. And most of it was directed firmly at Dib anyway. But regardless, Dib’s purpose in life had been, from the time he was very young, centered firmly around Zim.

He could empathize entirely with what it would feel like to suddenly, without any warning, having your entire purpose ripped away from you. He had felt that pain the night that the Tallest told him that his mission was a sham and that he was nothing more than a defective soldier, regardless of what the Control Brains had said.

Zim finished wiping himself down and sterilizing the wounds on his feet, not bothering to really inspect any of the damage on his body. Over the years he knew that he had collected an impressive number of scars. Chemical and water burns, surgical scars, track marks from IVs injecting all manner of chemicals and ‘calming medications’ into his bloodstream as he was made to be a plaything for the professor.  There would be time later to assess his current state. At the moment, he was more interested in Dib’s. He slipped the overly large shirt over his head, the apathetic grey face he had long associated with his human’s ensemble dominating his chest.

The Irken glanced up at the human, while he was understanding of trauma and needing to find some way to cope with it, he could not shake the hints of irritation that one as smart as Dib would do something so stupid to himself. He had performed enough experiments on enough lifeforms to know the ways that chemical dependencies could affect a body. He could not ask for him to quit altogether, it could shock his system and kill him. But he was not prepared to let Dib continue down this path.

When Dib posed his question to him, the alien narrowed his eyes, giving just the slightest clues of his disapproval “Let us try to be a little less self-destructive going forward, yes?” He did not press further, but did offer a more lighthearted and self-satisfied chuckle, “And how I found you? I am Zim, and I found you because Zim is brilliant. And… Zim may have implanted a tracking device into your brain which is encoded in my PAK. When you became my friend-boy I wanted to be able to trace you, were anything to happen to Dib.”

Dib took a deep breath, glad to see Zim cleaned up and now out of harm’s way, and his scars covered. The look of them made him ache completely and entirely. He would have to get used to seeing them–Dib knew now that Zim was back, he would not be letting him go again. Never again.

As for the drug use, Dib agreed that he would have to make an effort to slow down and stop entirely at some point, that’d he’d have to actually try this time if he wanted to keep Zim around, protect him, care for him. He couldn’t be weak, he couldn’t be reeling and drunk and high all the time like he had spent the last six fucking years, he knew that in his bones he couldn’t keep doing this to himself with Zim finally back in his arms. He knew it was stupid, and he knew that he knew better.

As he collected himself, and placed the bag of garbage down, Dib glanced out the window. Obviously Zim hadn’t been that far, so he’d have to keep Zim holed up in his apartment until they could get him a better disguise, hide the green of his skin. There had to be more they could do to make sure Zim was safe. Eventually, he figured, they would have to move, too. They’d have to make Zim look, on paper, like an actual citizen, and that meant a lot of illegal activity. Dib was fully prepared to take it on.

He couldn’t help but want to follow the traces of blood leading to his apartment building back to where Zim had come from, couldn’t help but want to rip out the eyes of anyone who dared to lay a hand on Zim, even though when they first met, he’d wanted to do those exact same things. The thought made his stomach turn. He might have to clean that blood, too, if it didn’t rain soon, but for now, it was dark and Zim was back and thanks to him, Dib hadn’t leaped off the ledge.

He had spent so long with his entire life revolving around Zim, that when the Irken left, it broke him. His sister didn’t much care for him, his father was entirely disapproving. He’d had nothing left to live for, nothing left to fight for, nothing left to tell him that life was worth living, but now? He had a hell of a lot to fight for.

Dib turned back to Zim after he’d collected clean clothes and a towel. He really needed to do laundry. “I’ll do my best. You–wait–put a tracker in me?” Dib burst out laughing–the first real laugh he’d allowed himself in years. “Why am I not surprised? And Zim, the term is ‘boyfriend’. That’s… what you want to call us? Are we–still that? Could we be that again? Would you want that? “

I’ll do my best. It was not a perfect response, but it would have to do for the time being. He would wean off the substances and they would be fine. Dib would be back to himself and together, unified, the two of them could take on whatever the universe threw their way. Weaning was not something that Zim would be able to do. For years he had been drugged into a submissive state by the professor, he had nothing on which to wean. But, regardless of being defective, he was still an Irken Invader and he was sure he would manage.

At the sound of Dib’s laughter, Zim tilted his head to the side, antennae twitching as he sorted through the response. It was beyond him what was funny about having a tracker placed into his brain meats. It should have been expected and it was a rather practical move on Zim’s part. It was meant to protect the boy, not to make him laugh. Even more confusing for him was the human’s question about what they were to each other and what it was that Zim wanted.

Had Dib already forgotten that Zim had kissed him? Shouldn’t that have made it clear enough what Zim had intended to come from their reunion? It is not like the invader would have done that to just any human, even if they had brought him to safety. He furrowed his brow and rose from the bed, his PAK legs helping him up before retreating and allowing him to stand on his own. He took the few steps that separated the two of them on wobbly legs until he was close enough to support himself by grabbing the human’s arm. He looked up at him, still amazed at his height and explained cautiously, “Dib is the only person in the universe that cares if Zim is alive. Zim only cares that Dib is alive. Is boyfriends the right word for this feeling? If it is then it is what Zim wants.”

Dib glanced down at Zim when the Irken approached him and jumped at the grip on his arm. Immediately, Dib looped an arm around the Irken just under his PAK to help keep him up, hopefully to cause less pressure on the pads of his feet. It had been so long since he’d fucking touched someone, nevermind wanted to. Zim was a comfort but seeing him like this destroyed Dib all over again.

“Well, I’d say it is,” Dib shrugged, running his free hand through his hair awkwardly. “I’m glad, and I’m sorry, I know I’m kind of making a mess of things right now. It’s just–you coming back after so long is a lot at once. I’m… Just experiencing a lot right now. I’m a little overwhelmed,” hesitantly, Dib placed another soft kiss on the top of Zim’s head, between the velvety antennae he’d always been so fascinated by. He’d gotten some interesting responses when they were younger any time, he’d caressed them, depending on Zim’s mood of course. It could have been pleasant or resulted in an attack either verbal or physical if he weren’t careful. Dib didn’t dare to touch them now, but he so wanted to kiss the bent one better.

Of course, Zim came to find him. Of. Course he’d put a tracker in him, years ago, to keep an eye on him whenever he needed. Even then, Zim wanted to protect him. If anything, be able to find him to annoy him relentlessly. It was just like him to do something like that. He couldn’t be angry, couldn’t bring himself to be, if it meant that Zim had made his way back.

“Hey, I’m gonna get in the shower. I want you to lay down and get some rest. You’ll heal fast, sure, but you look exhausted and sore still.” Carefully, Dib led Zim back to the bed. “Even if you don’t sleep, I know you never slept much before, I think you should rest. Do you need anything else?”

Dib didn’t feel like he could think clearly, like he was royally ruining a reunion, despite knowing logically that this reunion would have been bizarre either way, nevermind everything they’d both been through. Especially Zim. All he wanted was a line, and a drink, and he knew he couldn’t trust himself. He felt like he didn’t deserve the devotion, not after everything he’d done and become and had given up. He wanted to rip his hair out, smash his fist into the mirror again, by no fault of Zim’s, but his own failure.

It did help the ache in his feet to have the additional support of the human’s arm around him. The kiss to his forehead a comfort rather than the annoyance he had found it to be years ago. All of it was appreciated, though Zim did not voice that. The simple fact that he had not lashed out at the human at all in response to any of the affection presented to him should have been evidence enough to prove that. In the past, even when he had agreed to be boyfriends, Dib would often receive a sharp smack, bite or punch in exchange for attempting to initiate any kind of the sappy human contact.

He didn’t protest being led back to the bed, understanding the wisdom of rest and truthfully, he was tired. Irkens did not have to sleep hardly at all, under normal circumstances.  Their PAKs sustained them almost indefinitely. However, it was possible for the organic host to enter a sleep cycle to allow more of the PAK’s energy to be routed to repairs. He was not sure that he would be able to truly sleep though. In this strange room, full of strange smells, wearing large scratchy clothes and wondering about the possibility that by coming to Dib he may have also led the government mens to him.

Zim lowered himself back onto the bed and crawled into the spot he had been set down earlier. He selected the largest and fuzziest of the blankets available to him, draping it across his shoulders and head like a deformed cloak before addressing the boy. When he spoke, his tone was a bit sharp. But there was no malice behind his words, just a simple matter of Zim adjusting to once again to having a conversation, “Zim needs nothing. Begone and wash your filth, Dib-boyfriend.”

Watching Zim cuddle up into his bed, Dib managed a soft smile despite the cutting tone of Zim’s words. Not realizing that the Irken didn’t mean them to be, despite the fact that he sensed no aggression coming from him, Dib kept himself silent and simply offered a nod as he entered the bathroom with what he needed, letting Zim get the rest he so desperately needed.

As usual, Dib struggled to get the door closed and locked—he’d broken the knob about a year back in a drug-addled rage, and never got around to getting it fixed. He couldn’t stomach staring at himself in the cracked mirror for long (Christ, he was never going to get his damage deposit back), so he immediately undressed and turned on the shower as hot as he could handle it. He stood staring at the stream for a few moments, contemplating. Debating.

Fuck. Fuck.

Dib fished the small packed out of his pocket, glancing at the door as if Zim would be able to see through it, and, shaking, poured some out onto the countertop. He used his pinky finger to arrange somewhat of a line, cursing himself mentally the entire time. He knew he had to be better than this, but he kept making excuses for himself, followed by more chastising, until he inhaled the powder sharply, rising to a full stand and leaning his head back with the release of the same breath. He palmed the rest of the residue off the counter and got in the shower, letting the stream run down his face.

Zim wanted to be here. Wanted to be with him, date him, like Dib himself had wanted so badly all those years ago. He was already ruining it. Zim deserved better than this—especially now.

Zim watched as Dib nodded, turning away from him and retreating to the bathroom, leaving him alone in the room which served as the vast majority of the boy’s home. He took a moment to think of what his next move should be. It was a strange feeling, not knowing what he was going to do next. Zim always had a plan. A scheme. A play.

But right now, he felt as helpless as a PAK-less smeet.

He had escaped from the labs, yes. But now, they would be looking for him. If they had done any research whatsoever his movements before his capture, finding wherever Dib Membrane was would be the first logical place to look for him. There was no doubt in his mind that his base had been raided and gutted. He only hoped the security protocols did some damage first. This left him with none of his tech to rely on. Not even to create a new disguise…

The Irken’s head shot upward at the sound of rumbling pipes coming to life and the sound of water streaming from Dib’s shower. The sound made his heart begin to race, made him feel like he had to run. Memories of being hosed down and submerged in water and of the Professor -- most certainly memories of him, flashing in his mind’s eye. Zim pulled the blanket more firmly around his head, flattening is antenna. He closed his eyes, bringing his knees up to his chest and pressing his forehead against them. His body shook as he clawed at the blanket and tried to muffle the sound, repeating to himself over and over under his breath that he was not in the lab.

Dib was none the wiser to Zim’s panic while he showered, scrubbing himself as clean as he could, roughly, as if he could force the cocaine out of his system faster with the scalding water and soap. He didn’t bother to shave—his heart had begun pounding in his chest; from the coke or the fear of leaving Zim alone, he couldn’t tell.

He stepped out of the stream after a few minutes, turning the shower off and drying himself as best as he could. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get close to Zim if he were wet, and he had no idea what they’d actually done to the alien while he was taken. He didn’t want to picture it, didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to face it at all, just like he couldn’t face being so alone the past six years.

Tugging his clothes on, and giving a final, heavy towel-dry to his hair, Dib finally looked at himself in the cracked mirror, rubbing his hands up and down his face along the stubble. Maybe he would shave soon, but not now. He needed to spend as much time with Zim as possible. It couldn’t have been much more than ten minutes that he’d spent in the shower, fifteen max. He was shaking from the coke kicking in, from the cool air hitting his skin, and the anxiousness he felt about leaving Zim alone. He’d have heard if someone had kicked down the door. Right?

Dib opened the bathroom door, taking a deep breath and trying to make himself look as normal as possible—all things considered. When he saw Zim curled up in the blankets, shaking and whimpering, he immediately moved to sit across from him and place a hand gently on his knee.

“Zim?? Woah, hey, are you okay? What’s going on?” He tried to keep his voice gentle, and calm, but he couldn’t help but panic.

The alien could not have said how long that shower was. For all he knew it was six long years of continual torture, experimentation and far worse things. Before he knew it, pinkish tears had begun streaming down his cheeks while he tried to tell himself in futility that the things he was seeing were not happening now. They were only memories. But the panic in his chest was beyond real. The flashes of images and the noise of machinery that were forcing their way through his subconsciousness seemed more real to him now than the bed on which he sat.

His blood was pounding so loudly in his head that he never heard the shower turn off. He did not hear the door, or Dib.

When that hand pressed against his knee, it was not the gentle touch of his human. It was the feeling of a mallet shattering his knee just to see how long it took to heal. At the sensation Zim reacted quickly, his face contorted in rage as he hissed at the assailant, the Professor, his claws scratched wildly at any bit of flesh he could manage until his PAK legs erupted from their confines and moved into a flurry of blurred motion, knocking the scientist away from him with hit that was hard and true directly to his chest. In a flash the Irken was above him, he was pinned beneath Zim who wrapped his hand around his throat and squeezed tightly.

Zim snarled at the figure through gritted teeth, but suddenly it was not the Professor beneath him any longer. His fingers were wrapped around Dib’s throat.

Zim’s eyes widened and he pulled his hands away from the human as if he had been burned. The PAK legs propelled him backwards away from the boy. They retracted too early and he dropped harshly to the ground. He used his legs to kick himself away until his back was against a wall. He could do nothing to stop the tears that were falling, his voice shook as he spoke in a horrified whisper, “Dib ??Dib, are you o-okay?”

The moment the first scratch of Irken claws touched his skin, memories of youth rushed back. Not when they were eight or nine or ten, but just as they were getting into their teens. For a while, things had gotten violent between the two of them before it all tapered off again, back into simple disdain, then neutrality, and then slowly to friendship and more.

But when it was violent, it was violent, like now, only this time Dib refused to fight back. He had enough faculties to know not to, he hadn’t taken enough substances to alter him that much, so all he could do as he was thrown off the bed and the wind knocked completely out of him was grit his teeth and half-shriek pain through it, trying not to alert his neighbors and trying not to hurt Zim in defending himself from the onslaught.

When Zim’s hand had clasped around his throat, all Dib could feel was the sudden lack of oxygen, the pressure so close to crushing his windpipe, staring up wide-eyed at Zim’s now deepened, dried-blood colored eyes. In their depths he could see the fear, the trauma, and the unadulterated fury flooding out of them. All Dib could do was stare.

Before he had time to try and get Zim off of him, his eyes had shifted back to normal. The snarl of sharp zipper-teeth had fallen into horrified shock, and Zim was scrambling off of him.

The first thing Dib did was roll over, leaning onto his forearms and coughing harshly into the filthy carpet, his esophagus scratchy as he hacked and gasped for oxygen. He hardly heard Zim’s words—they didn’t quite register. His fingers clutched the carpet and the stinging on his face and chest alerted him to the fact that he was bleeding.

“Jesus—agh—fucking…” Dib spit saliva and blood out of his mouth. His vision was blurry. Where were his glasses? “Christ.”

Zim watched in mesmerized horror as Dib turned over and began coughing, spitting blood onto the already dirty floor.

He turned his head slightly, looking at the door to the balcony with uncertainty.  He contemplated leaving then, before the boy had a chance to get up. How could he stay here with Dib if the reality was either that the government would break down his door and kill him for harboring a fugitive extraterrestrial being or that Zim was going to end up accidentally killing him in a blind rage?

He couldn’t bring himself to actually do it. Instead he shifted forward slowly, crawling on his hands and knees to inspect whatever damage he had just done. The lines of crimson on the boy’s cheek filled him with guilt, while they were not the worst wounds, he had ever inflicted on him, these were the first that he had not meant to cause. He picked up the boy’s glasses which had been knocked to the ground and held them out tentatively towards him.

“Dib … I… I did not mean to. I thought you were… I…” He did not know how to describe what he had just gone through. He had heard of soldiers experiencing madness after battles to the point they needed to be deleted entirely. But he did not know how to express that his mind had been corrupted. A fatal flaw in the codes that kept his consciousness intact. “I’m sorry, Dib.”

Dib continued coughing into the floor for some time, his eyes closed tightly as he gasped for breath. Slowly, and with a lot of pain, Dib adjusted himself so that he was sitting, gently rubbing at his throat. He reached out slowly to accept the glasses, unable to keep himself steady as he took them back from the Irken.

While he couldn’t make eye contact, he knew he needed to say something. The words came out as barely a whisper now, almost inaudible. His chest and throat hurt too much to put any real effort into them. “Y-you got—” he interrupted himself with another fit of coughing before he continued, “pretty damn good at that.” He attempted a weak smile at Zim. “I’ll be—I’ll be fine. It’s okay. I—I understand.” He reached his hand up to touch his face, unsurprised when it came down with a sticky trail of blood.

While he was in a lot of pain, still having trouble breathing, and his heart was pounding in the back of his head in the worst migraine he’d ever experienced, he just wanted to make sure Zim was okay. This trauma was like nothing he’d seen before, and to see it in someone he cared about so completely was absolutely heartbreaking.

“I just… wanted to make sure you were okay. You looked… p-pretty scared there.” God, it hurt to talk. He knew he’d have more scars to add to the count, and probably a black eye on top of a bruised chest. He was almost worried he’d broken a rib. Oh, Zim… what have they done to you?

“I’m just gonna—lay down for…a m-minute,” As carefully as he could, but not carefully enough, Dib leaned back and thudded onto the floor, closing his eyes. Ow.

The Irken physically flinched at Dib’s would be compliment. There was a time that he would have snarked at the boy, agreeing wholeheartedly, grinning a wide sharp toothed smile and poking one of the injuries just for punctuation. But now the sight of his only friend and confidante lying on the ground in pain only made his spooch ache miserably.

Zim crawled a bit closer, laying down on the dirty floor next to his boyfriend, close enough to press his forehead against the picture of the Loch Ness on his arm, placing both of his hands gently into Dib’s larger one, holding his fingers loosely. He needed to be close to him, but not so close that Dib could not choose to move away from him if he was not ready to have this close of proximity to the person who just delivered a good beating to him.

He said that he understood. That it was okay. But there was no possible way that he could understand what just happened in his brain. There was no feasible way that this could be classified as okay.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, after his shower he almost smelled like himself again. Even the scent of his blood brought a surge of memories. That was a realization that made him ache even more. He let out a sigh and sullenly replied, “It is not okay. I don’t want to hurt you like that. You deserve better than what is left of Zim.”

At Zim’s presence next to him, Dib could feel himself relax. Despite the viciousness of the alien losing himself and accosting him, Zim’s closeness was more than welcomed. Dib squeezed his hand, unable to move but wanting to show Zim that it was, really, okay.

They’d fought before. Of course, it was far less one-sided, but even when they were basically dating, Dib didn’t take his swatting or insults as abusive. Zim just didn’t know the guidelines of human relationships. He was from a different planet for Christ’s sake.

And now? His once exuberant and excitable little brat was reeling from years of worse abuse than Dib could even dare to think about, even when they were teenagers. He couldn’t fault Zim for that, for this, for the scars on his cheek or the lump in his throat.

“I need… I need you to listen to me, Zim,” carefully, Dib rolled over just enough to face Zim, to look him in the eyes, without hurting himself. “The past few years have–they’ve been awful for the both of us.” No, Dib, you were punishing yourself and your boyfriend was literally being tortured somewhere. “In different ways. Maybe we can… try to heal together, and anyway, you deserve… better than this, too.” He gestured vaguely toward himself. “I didn’t… I can’t believe I stopped looking for you.”

They just needed to get through the night. Rest enough to assess the situation and find a way to fight through it. He just didn’t want to talk anymore. He was too sore. He wanted the bed, and Zim in his arms. To kiss his jaw, and neck, and collarbone. To hear the soft but accepting hiss from his tongue on the alien’s flawless skin. Zim’s claws not gouging him but scraping just enough to sting and trailing gentle bites up to his ear.

They’d never gotten much farther than that, resulting in a lot of pent up tension that usually came out in violence of some form. He wasn’t sure where this heat in his blood was coming from, or why now, but it was an all too familiar sensation, and one he hadn’t felt in years. Dib turned just a little more, swallowing down thickly and trying to quell the coals that were threatening to ignite. He saw the pain and self-loathing in Zim’s face. It was a look he knew too well. He wanted to take it away, show Zim he was still worth–everything, and God did he want to prove it over and over again.

Zim’s body relaxed slightly when Dib gave his fingers a reassuring squeeze. The small act proof that the human was prepared to, if he had not already, forgive him for what had just transpired. He kept his face pressed onto Dib’s arm until the human shifted his position to address him.

He looked up at the boy, his heart sinking again at the bruise which was already forming under his eye. Dib’s words were kind and calming. Hopeful that they could work through this together, even if the both of them felt rather broken at the moment. He had managed a half smile and a brief nod, but he averted his gaze when Dib admitted that he stopped looking for Zim.

There had been a time, early on in his imprisonment that he would allow himself to imagine Dib coming after him. He couldn’t count the number of nights he spent imagining Dib, loaded to the teeth with Irken tech from his lab, bursting in with a grandiose and daring escape plan.

After a month, it seemed unlikely. After a year, it seemed remote. After two or so, he just stopped hoping for that entirely.  

He could not really blame him for not looking. The last time they had spoken before tonight Zim had said the most terrible things to him. Dib had asked him for something simple. Something that Zim even wanted. All that Dib wanted was to live with him. And Zim had yelled, he had screamed at him, pushed him away both figuratively and literally. He had not deserved a daring rescue.

Zim readjusted to lay his head on the human’s stomach, pressing forward to bury his face in the fabric of his shirt. Regardless of what had happened before, Dib was with him now. The boy wanted to save him now, even if he didn’t save him then.

He was content for a few moments to just breathe in the smell of him. His antenna twitched slightly as that smell began to change. He had smelled like adrenaline, mingled with blood and whatever soap he had used in his shower, but the smell turned sweeter and familiar.

A memory surfaced, brought on by the aroma. A memory of he and Dib wrestling over the remote control, Zim having said that his brain would quite literally melt if he had to watch one more episode of Mysterious Mysteries. They tousled, fought, bit and scratched, never aiming to actually cause real damage. Zim had pinned Dib, biting at the skin of his neck with only just enough force to leave little marks along his jaw. He pulled away triumphantly declaring, “I win, Stinky.” The boy had reached up to pull his head closer and kissed him soundly.

Dib smelled just like that now.

Zim glanced back up at the boy, seeing the same kind of fire behind his eyes as he looked down at him. He adjusted himself to a higher position where he could dip his head down and press his lips against the angry bruise on Dib’s throat. He had almost forgotten the salty sweet taste of his human’s skin. One kiss turned into many as Zim worked his way around the wound.

Dib had been so angry at Zim for so long. It wasn’t fair, he had thought, for the last six years, that Zim would turn him down so horribly and disappear. Thinking on it now, however, he was able to see clearly enough to realize that it was not like Zim to just… leave. After about two years of half-hearted attempts, he just gave up.

Maybe Dib should’ve put his own tracker in the Irken.

That was the past. Zim was finally here with him, and although they were broken and maybe even a little mangled, Zim was by his side and willing to give this thing a shot. Willing, it seemed, to fight with him for their chance at a life together once again. Dib wanted to kiss every scar on his skin, grab his hips—

When Zim leaned over him and started kissing his bruised neck—he’d have a bizarre hand print there for at least a few days—Dib unconsciously let out a pained whine. However, it didn’t seem to snuff the coals in his gut, but rather lit them. He tilted his head back, exposing as much of his neck as he could. He was suddenly too warm. As Zim continued placing kisses along his bruised skin, he hesitantly reached up with both hands, one resting high on Zim’s lithe hip and the other wrapping gently around his head.

He became hyperaware of his own callused skin. Despite the scars, Zim was as soft and pristine as ever. He recalled his own memory at their positioning—not of wrestling foolishly for the remote in Zim’s living room, but of running through the forest, thinking he was chasing Zim with a video camera as an April Fool’s prank, only to be tackled football-style from the side and the two of them sent flying and screaming into the twigs and dirt.

His body was sore and stung then as it did now, and he felt the same tension rising. Spitting words, not with venom, but something else entirely. A form of doublespeak, saying what they so desperately wanted to say, buried under childish insults. Zim always wound up pinning him down. He was faster, stronger, and perhaps even smarter. Truly it was his ego that ever caused him to lose. As the years went on, Dib didn’t want to win, although he didn’t stop trying to. Moments like this, feeling Zim against him and blood pounding in his chest at a thousand miles a minute was his reward for losing.

Finally, Dib released a shaky breath he didn’t realize he had been holding the entire time. He was just about to adjust Zim, pull him into his lap, when he opened his eyes a sliver and caught a glimpse of the bed just next to them. The floor was gross.

“Zim— L-let’s move,” he murmured, voice rough from his earlier punishment and haughty from his body’s attack on his own system.

Zim had done this enough times, not only with Dib, to be able to read the unspoken hints given to him by the way that Dib’s head moved, and his breath hitched, and he would adjust where he was kissing. He did not want to hurt Dib any further than he already had, but he did add a few light bites that only had just enough pressure for the human to feel the sharpness of his teeth pressing into him.

When Dib grabbed onto him the invader seemed to melt into the touch, trailing the affectionate kisses along Dib’s stubbly jaw up to the spot just below his weird human ear. Which he had always seemed to enjoy before.

Zim stopped what he was doing, pulling back just slightly when Dib spoke. He followed the human’s gaze to where it was focused on the bed and decided that it would certainly be preferable.

The Irken dipped his head back down, giving one last gentle bite before untangling himself from the boy’s grip. Instead he wrapped his own arms around the taller male and pulled him along gently, trying his best not to hurt him any more than what couldn’t be avoided. It was made a bit harder than it had to be, as Zim did not engage his PAK, feeling that so soon after the brief combat, it might be distressing for Dib.

“Come on then, Stinky.” the insult had once been meant to cut Dib to the core, the brilliance of his insults unsurpassed by any he knew. But over the years it had become almost an endearment from the Irken. He had actually done a fair amount of research about what it was you were supposed to call someone you date.  But most of the phrases made him want to gag a bit.

As he pulled the human onto the bed, he could not help but grin at the memory of he and GIR sitting in his lab, eating an exorbitant amount of pixie sticks and sorting through the abhorrent nicknames.

“Oooooooh. I LIKE DAT ONE.”

“Shnookums? No, GIR. Zim will not be calling ANYONE Shnookums.”

Once he had managed to help the boy onto the bed, Zim laid down at his side, trailing his nimble fingers along the stubble on Dib’s cheek, just below the claw marks he had left. The Irken leaned forward, pressing his lips against them as if to soothe the ache they left and to apologize for their appearance in the first place.

Dib chuckled softly into the insult/word of endearment, helping to move himself with Zim so that neither of them were putting too much strain on their wounds. The insult had become a joy to hear, especially now. The only insult he hated was when Zim would call him a ‘beast’–the word was only ever uttered in anger, when Zim was mad at him for some ungodly ridiculous reason. It was the last nickname Zim had called him before disappearing. The name only lived online now.

It still hurt to move, and he immediately missed Zim’s mouth on his skin, but it could have been much worse. He’d taken worse hits from Zim before. He was sure he still had a puncture scar on his lower back from a harsh shove with one of the PAK legs, deep in the depths of Zim’s lab.

He missed that place a great deal more than he expected to. When they started dating, he spent a lot of time exploring Zim’s base, touching things he definitely shouldn’t have been toying around with. He had a laser whiz by his head once, blast into one of the walls and sent bits of metal crumbling to the floor. Zim basically tore him a new one for that, and whined about his base for weeks, but he was sure Zim was just terrified at how close he’d come to blasting himself in the face.

Once they were comfortable on the bed, lacking sheets but with a couple clean blankets, Dib allowed Zim to touch his face, looping his own arm around the Irken’s shoulders to serve as an extra pillow. He turned his face to give Zim better access and trailed the tips of his own fingers along Zim’s back.

He desperately wanted to grab the Irken, haul him into his lap and kiss him long and deep. He wanted the taste of Zim’s tongue against his own, the friction of their hips together and Zim’s claws tugging at his hair to reveal as much of his neck as possible. A shiver ran down Dib’s spine at the gentle kiss to the scratches on his face. Absently, Dib’s free hand clenched and unclenched against the mattress next to him, trying desperately to find a way to release some of the tension. He didn’t want to move Zim too fast after everything he had been through, didn’t want to scare him again or cause another reaction. He had no idea what else they may have done to him.

So, he let Zim take the reins completely. He wouldn’t make a move until Zim did, determined to match his comfort level and pace. He’d only been home for an hour, after all.

Zim smiled against the boy’s skin as the endorphins flowing through the human’s veins filled the air around them like sweet perfume. He had never told Dib how easily he could smell his every change of mood, he had always seen it as an advantage that he held over him, often able to predict his intentions simply by the way he smelled. When they had started dating, Zim often used this as a form of torture, giving into the affections until Dib’s aroma was positively desperate.  That was when he would disengage, shoving him away with a declaration that he tired of the human’s sappy displays.

The frustration smelled almost sweeter to him than the desire did.

At the moment though, he could not fathom pushing Dib away. He needed this closeness, all the affections he had been denied. And the way that the boy smelled let him know quite clearly that it was what Dib needed now too.

The Irken moved gracefully, regardless of his various injuries, positioning himself on top of the human, straddling his waist. Delicate hands slipped beneath the fabric of Dib’s shirt, working it off of him as gently as he could before tossing it to the end of the bed. His own shirt had been essentially ripped to shreds when the PAK engaged, so he tugged it off and threw the tattered material as well.

He took a moment, tracing the darkening bruise on Dib’s chest with his fingertips before giving it the same kind of apologetic kisses he had administered to the boy’s neck. He trailed the kisses upward, pausing at the hollow of his throat, covering it with his mouth and sucking gently while his hands moved along Dib’s chest, coming to rest on the human’s shoulders.

The alien shifted to be able to look his human in the eyes, the bright green skin of his cheeks darkening to an odd emerald color as he said, “Dib can touch Zim, if he wants … I won’t push you away.”

When Zim climbed on top of Dib, it took all of his self-restraint not to flip them over to make every move he’d ever wanted to make and was never granted permission. To, for once, take control of the situation. A slight fear and curiosity all too familiar grew in his chest at the memories, never having been allowed more than a few moments of arousal before he would separate completely and scowl. Dib shook beneath him, one hand moving from around Zim’s shoulders to resting gently on his hip while the other continued to paw at the mattress, his own hips adjusting to and quivering at the light pressure of the weight of him.

At the removal of his shirt, Dib felt his cheeks warm once again. He was embarrassed by his figure now—tall and lanky, all sharp edges. The fact that he ‘hadn’t been taking care of himself’ was an understatement, and with this reunion he wanted to give his Irken something he could actually be attracted to. These fears, however, dissipated as Zim began to kiss his chest and made his way up to the well of his throat. Dib tilted his head back and inhaled a gasp, his eyelids heavy and his throat tender, especially now that his mouth was dry.

Dib allowed every touch Zim offered him. He was very desperate. Nothing was enough. He needed more than he could allow himself to ask for, wanted every inch of him in his hands and in his mouth. When Zim shifted away from kissing and sucking on his neck, Dib whined almost pathetically. His eyes opened to look up at him, licked his chapped lips from the sight of his own deep green flush. He wanted to beg —he’d gladly give him that satisfaction tonight. He didn’t need to, however, for once those words slipped out from between his lips, both hands were on him, gliding with pressure up the sides of his now-exposed back, up to his shoulders, down his chest, not enough to hurt him, but with a great deal of urgency.

He knew he was panting now, not by the sound or the jagged rise and fall of his chest, but from the tenderness of his throat and how he almost wanted more of it. Dib raised his hands up Zim’s chest again, observing and feeling every scar he could see and reach, trying so hard to take his time, before one of his hands made its way to rest at Zim’s own neck, thumb grazing along his jaw up to caress his lips, before he pulled down and kissed Zim with the passion of six missed years.

In their youth Zim never let Dib know when he became flustered by their more intimate interactions. When things became heated enough that his reservations even threatened to break the Irken would cease their nonsense immediately.  He never lost his composure, leading the boy on that the exchanges of passion were purely for his human sensibilities.

He had no reason to do that anymore. He had been written off by the empire. He wasn’t an invader. He had no mission. All he had was Dib.

He offered no protest at the human’s hands on his skin, instead giving in and pressing into the contact, his back arching delicately into Dib’s palms and then leaning into him when he had shifted to touching his chest. He did not try to steady his breath, instead he let it fall from his lips, shaking and ragged.

When Dib kissed him, he did so with abandon. An act that was normally reserved and tentative became a heated exchange of twisting tongues, nipping teeth and breathless moans. The Irken purred into the kiss, something he had never done in front of the human, his sounds of pleasure akin to a contented cat.

Zim brought his hands up, tangling his fingers in the boy’s hair and did not recoil at the soft hiss that sounded as the dampness made contact with his skin, but rather retaliated by gripping the hair tighter, pulling it slightly as he returned the feverish kiss.

He pulled away for just a moment, merely to catch his breath. His eyes, normally deep crimson had shifted and in the dull light seemed to almost shine a brilliant pink beneath his heavy lids. An entirely new expression for Dib to memorize.

When Zim kissed him back just as passionately, Dib couldn’t help but release a surprised hum, a sound that grew into a moan from deep in his chest. This was everything he had wanted for years. Hell, even before–

Feeling the purr vibrate through his mouth, sending a jolt of what could only be described as lightning and tingling his tongue, all Dib could do to not completely lose it was grip Zim’s loose waistband tightly in his fist, his right hand trailing up, up, and, completely contradictory to all of the sounds and movements they were making, carefully grazing just the tips of his fingers along the velvety appendage.

He flinched at first when he felt Zim grab onto his damp hair, worried about the water burning his skin, but at the titillating hiss Dib let him tug on the locks to his heart’s content. He arched into each grip, becoming profoundly embarrassed by the pathetic whine that escaped his throat when Zim pulled back to breathe.

Dib caught Zim’s eyes in that moment, and his breath hitched in his throat. The Irken was flushed, eyes almost glittering, the half-lidded expression causing his heart to skip. The moonlight breaking through the glass doors of the balcony–currently the only source of light in his apartment–lit up the side of him, causing an angelic halo. Dib managed only a murmur.

“F-fuck, you’re beautiful.”

It took an instant longer for Dib to make up his mind. He flipped their positions. Hand on hip trailed to thigh, pulling him in and keeping the alien’s leg around his own. The other leg trapped between his, leaning on his forearm next to Zim’s head. While the antenna was still in reach and he kept the touch there gentle, he no longer denied himself the pressure and friction he needed everywhere else. His breath was coming out in heavy gasps, but he had to stop and be sure, asking quietly with a throaty rumble, “Is–is t-this okay?”

The Irken allowed the boy to paw at him, however he pleased.  There was no resistance to the groping hands, even when they touched his antenna. The sensation of Dib’s calloused fingers gently massaging the base of the feeler sent waves that felt like a mild electric current through him. It was agonizing in the best possible ways.

The way that his human looked at him, eyes wide in awe at the sight of him, his face flushed, and his pupils dilated to the point that only a sliver of vibrant gold was visible. He very well could have used the same sentiment. He didn’t. Mostly because he was far too baffled by it being used to describe him in the first place. Zim had been called many things in his long life, beautiful that had never been one of them.

He did not know how to react to that, he was still processing it when Dib’s grip became far firmer, and he was suddenly flat on his back, pinned by the human.  The feeling of the human pressing against him, the warmth of him and the size of him - it made Zim feel incredibly small. But he did not mind it so much.

Rather than insecure, it made him feel safe. Knowing that Dib was there with him, willing to protect him, wanting to be at his side. It caused a feeling somewhere deep in his chest to flutter to life. He realized in that instant that he would go to the ends of the universe for him. He would lay down his life for this human. Everything that he thought had been ripped away from him, his station, his purpose, his mission. All of it was right in front of him.

Now, Dib was his Tallest.

The thought coming to fruition, even silently in his mind caused him to flush even further. Soft chirps and chitters escaped his lips as he looked up at the boy, admiring the way that his hair framed his face and the way that his silly glasses slipped slightly on the bridge of his nose.

“Dib can touch Zim.” he reiterated quietly, another purr escaped him before he added, “However Dib wants.”

A deep growl released from Dib’s chest at the words his Irken chirped up at him, each sound he’d made lighting a new flame within him. He’d never heard those sounds before, and he wanted Zim to keep making them— more. Louder. Dib didn’t say more, now. He couldn’t. He hoped that Zim knew the sentiment was returned to him, wanting to feel the alien all over him in any way he could.

Dib settled back slightly, putting the bulk of his weight on his knees, refusing to break eye contact with the other as he did so. Any time he’d managed to pin Zim, in moments close to this or during fights, he’d always wound up pinned right back. Feeling the smaller frame beneath him made him feel powerful. It fueled his movements; six years was too fucking long. He released Zim’s hip, hoping that the leg would stay tied around his hip—for now.

Once his hands were free, he set about touching every surface of skin he could. Everywhere he could reach, he wanted to feel. It wasn’t long until he needed more. He was insatiable. Burying his nose between Zim’s shoulder and neck, kissing him, sucking at the skin, even leaving, for the first time, his own light bites, one hand moving back up and holding the Irken’s hands above his head. He was thankful for the first time since his growth spurt for his height, able to keep Zim exactly where he wanted him.

Zim would be spoiled tonight, Dib decided, and he smirked. Time for payback for those years of Zim riling him up and shoving him away. He could only imagine the sounds he might be able to obtain from the Irken. Dib wanted him begging. Oh, this would be magnificent.

Dib pulled his mouth back suddenly, casting a sharp glance up at Zim over the frame of his glasses, mouth slightly open as a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He scooched himself back just slightly, and when he moved forward again, he was taking his time. As slow as he could manage, in fact, placing a bite, or kiss, and in some instances a lick on each scar, one at a time, with care and purpose. Every movement was excruciatingly slow as he made his way along Zim’s collar. Down his chest. Abdomen. Inch by inch, the alien was becoming his again.

He was practically inspired by the six years of bitterness, pent up tension, and now rage at what his exquisite alien had gone through. Six years of this were torn from beneath them.

He would take his sweet, sweet time.

When Dib began touching every exposed bit of green skin, Zim let his head fall back into the pillows, purring at the contact. He did nothing to stifle the sound, instead letting it reverberate in his chest beneath the boy’s hands. The bites to his neck drew forth perfectly undignified mewling sounds from the Irken, his toes curling reflexively.  

His first moment of hesitation was when Dib had taken his hands, pinning them above his head. His body stiffened slightly, memories of restraints and pain surfacing. The panic lasted only a moment, lulled and soothed by the look Dib gave him. The playful and mischievous smirk, sweet, caring eyes looking down at him in adoration. He allowed himself to relax once again, submitting to the human’s grip. After all that he had put Dib through, he deserved this moment. And after all the years they had been apart, both of them needed it.

Each bite, suck, lap of the tongue elicited more chitters from the Irken, his back arching upward toward him. The hisses of moisture against his skin, their delicate and intimate sting, smothered the memories of how the scars came to be. The near white and mint green marks on his once pristine emerald skin served as a macabre map for Dib, letting him know precisely where Zim needed him the most.

He tilted his head to look down the length of his chest taking in the sight of Dib moving lower, pressing his lips onto his stomach, a lewd appreciation forming at the fact that the human was large enough that he could manage the act while still keeping Zim’s hands above his head. At one particularly sharp bite the Irken arched again, his hips lifting from the mattress as he let out a loud chirp.

As soon as Zim tensed up, Dib lightened his grip around Zim’s wrists, but he didn’t let go of them completely. He continued trailing slowly down the length of him, paying close and exhaustive attention each time his mouth made contact, before he finally did let go of the Irken’s wrists, trailing both hands down his chest and sides, one stopping at his hip—

The other hand creeped down Zim’s chest, slowing even further at the dip where his navel would be if he were human, before languidly untying the lacing of Zim’s pants, hooking his index finger over them, and tugging down one side just enough to reveal the peak and valley of Zim’s hip, where Dib leaned down, finally breaking eye contact, to pay particular attention there.

When the Irken arched into him, Dib felt another rumble escape from his chest. Nothing he did felt like enough, but each movement, each sound that the other released was like heaven. It was pure ecstasy, and far, far better than the drug itself. He’d tried it a couple of times, but it only left him feeling tired and wanting when the high wore off. But this, oh, this was a far better drug, a far more satisfying high, and he could only imagine the satisfaction of after.

After what he hoped would be an agonizing amount of time, Dib pulled back, leaning up on both hands to look down at the alien beneath him, index finger still hooked, He wasn’t sure what to say, but he knew what he wanted. Dib wanted to hear Zim’s voice, hear his consent, hear him ask for everything Dib wanted to give him.

He wanted to rip them both bare. He wanted to hear his name sliding from Zim’s tongue and between his lips. Wanted to take him, have him, make the tiny brat his. Wanted claws digging into his back and Zim’s head tossed back, to kiss his throat and feel every sound he released vibrate in his mouth.

“Zim,” Dib managed to growl, unable to say more but needing confirmation

When his hand were released Zim did not instantly move them away from their position above his head, instead he gripped the pillow in his fists tightly as Dib licked and nipped at his hip. The Irken bit down on his bottom lip with his sharp teeth to stifle a treacherous chuckle that almost left him at the sensation. He was prepared to for quite a bit in this moment, but letting it be known that he was ticklish was not among those things.

He still had his pride after all.

His composure very nearly broke at the end, leaving him breathless when Dib finally lifted his head to cease the small torment. Zim’s grip slackened and he caught the human’s gaze at the sound of his name uttered in that deliciously desperate plea. His eyes which had taken on a deep amaranth tone glittered almost mischievously back at Dib.

He took a moment to contemplate before slipping his captured leg from between Dib’s, positioning it instead around his hip to mirror the other one. Zim’s hands came down from their position above him, one rested on the human’s shoulder, the other on the back of his neck which he save a light scratch with the tips of his claws.

He was fully understanding of the brief hesitation the human showed.  This was the furthest that Zim had ever let him go. Usually far before now he would have grabbed Dib’s face and shoved him away, if not something far more violent.

He gave Dib a reassuring smile and tilted his head to the side as he said through his purrs, “I will not push you away, Dib. You are my Tallest and I am your Zim. I want us to be mated.”

Dib felt himself finally release a shaky breath. Zim’s Tallest? The compliment gave him a satisfaction he couldn’t have gotten from anything else uttered, and he knew how much of a compliment this was—how much he’d respected his Tallests at one point in time many years past, and the fact that Dib had become, in some way, likened to that, was a source of pride.

He didn’t say anything more, still unable to speak, and simply nodded, his demeanor having taken a severe 180. He had embarrassed himself a little bit, having worked himself up so well to get to this point and now not knowing entirely what to expect or what it would feel like. His hands on Zim’s hips, hesitating, quivered as he swallowed thickly.

Nowadays, and anxieties felt would have been remedied with liquor and cocaine, followed by weed just to take the edge off. He was completely sober now and didn’t fully know he was meant to act. Dib had gotten in his own head, and he was fully aware of the fact that he was hesitating, each second lasting an eternity.

However, glancing up at the Irken and seeing his heated expression, hearing the cat-like pleasure, the way the moonlight lit him up, every worry crumbled to dust. It didn’t matter—they were together now, and everything Dib could ever want, Zim was allowing.

He shook his head slightly, as if to shake the anxiety out of his head and tightened his grip on Zim’s bottoms and tugged them off completely, tossing them to join the shirts at the foot of the bed. They were closely followed by his own. Resuming his agonizingly slow pace, desperate for vocal reassurance, Dib lowered himself and continued to trail kisses and nips down Zim’s hip and thigh, adoring the feel of the Irken’s legs around him, but needing room to move down, to caress and grab. His hands found their way to Zim’s hips, holding him still as he kissed along a mostly smooth but scarred thigh, before turning up with a breath.

He wasn’t startled at all by the difference between his and Zim’s mechanisms, instead, he was only hot and fascinated. Dib only wanted him all the more.

The Irken could smell the anxiety creeping in as the boy processed what he had said and what he had given him permission to do. The bitter tones of it tainted the sweet aroma of arousal and desire. Not in a way that was unpleasant, but in a way that he found himself chittering softly in encouragement to try to sooth the fears his lover felt. It took only a few beats for Dib to focus back in at the task at hand, tugging the greatly oversized pajama bottoms off of the alien and ridding himself of his own clothing.

Zim would not have ever admitted to Dib that he had his own reservations about this moment. He had been able to research what to expect from the boy’s body, he even took several human biology classes in Skool. But Dib was not given the same opportunities as far as Irken anatomy goes. He could not help the sudden worry that the human may not like what he saw.

He did not have cause to worry though, Dib showed no hesitation or shock at the sight of him. Instead Dib seemed to embrace their differences wholeheartedly, just as easily as he accepted most other variants between them.

As the boy dipped down to kiss at his hips and thigh Zim lifted himself from the pillow slightly, propping himself up with an elbow to allow him to admire the sight the boy between his legs. The Irken did nothing to stifle his reactions to the pleasure he felt in that moment, mewling at every little bite and touch, the warmth of the boy on his cool skin leaving traces long after he had moved on to another spot. The small bits of moisture from Dib’s tongue hissed almost pleasantly, evaporating and leaving his flesh hypersensitive and longing for more contact.

Too long he had denied himself and denied Dib the intimacy of this moment.  But he was done denying both of them. He purred deep on his chest and snaked his free hand into the damp locks of the human’s hair when he had looked up at him with those honey eyes, full of desire and need. Zim fisted the hair, making sure to scrape his claws against Dib’s scalp as he did, giving it a sharp tug as he flashed a sharp smile at his human. “Is this what Tallest Dib wants?”

A hot gasp fell from Dib’s mouth when Zim clawed into his hair, nails sharp between the locks. He had lost complete control of his voice, and, unable to speak, nodded into Zim’s hand and licked his lips, turning his head to look up at the other. He hoped his expression was enough to suffice without making him say it. The sight of the mischievous smirk, the glitter of sharp teeth in the moonlight, the darkness lingering behind smirking narrowed eyes. He was perfect.

All of his experience came from what he’d read and watched of human sex. He must have looked a fool, staring up with a blend of admiration and arousal. He wanted to worship him, feel the power and control of his delicate frame, to give him everything and more. He felt compelled to move, to willingly accept every mark and claw and bite onto his skin— fuck. He’d begun to almost miss the feel of claws around his throat, desperate for the control and mastery of movements that he had seen and felt so many times. He never understand how the Irken moved like that; so smoothly and with such purpose, practically gliding through a room, attention always on him.

Dib may be the Tallest, now, but in this moment, he realized it was Zim who was in command. He couldn’t bring himself to take action without explicit permission—hell, he couldn’t even bring himself to ask for it, at least not verbally. He had felt so in control of this position earlier, eliciting the most delectable of noises as he moved, but the moment he released Zim’s arms he’d granted that dominance back to Zim. Here he sat, kneeling between thin but strong legs and panting like a dog, staring up at his lover pathetically. He knew it wouldn’t take much for Zim to kick him off, or even to be flipped beneath him and pinned face-down in the pillows before he could even begin to protest.

Honestly? The thought made him want to dip his head between Zim’s legs and take him in his mouth, but he didn’t just want that, he wanted to be told to—a realization that made his heart pound loud enough he was sure Zim could hear it.

The Irken chuckled in his throat at the lascivious lick of the lips and desperate shuddering breath. The half-light seemed to sharpen the boy’s features, his flushed face had turned ruddy, and puppy-like eyes looked to him for direction and assurance just as they had so many times before. The look served to fill his chest with possessive need and making him feel self-assured and powerful for the first time in six long years.

Dib meant more to him than any other being in the cosmos. He would be the Tallest and Zim would dedicate himself to the boy’s will, but it had been far too long since he had been able to remind Dib of his place.

He gave another, sharper tug to the hair in his grip, giving the human a reward for his submission that would placate the boy’s masochistic needs that he himself had helped ingrain into him. Releasing the locks, he trailed his claws down the side of the boy’s face and along his jaw, lifting his chin with the pressure that was not enough to break the skin, just enough to remind Dib that he could if he wanted to.

Zim sat up fully, letting the tips of his claws bite into his skin as he lifted Dib’s chin to force him to look at his face, the angle he knew would strain his neck just a bit and make it hard for him to swallow. After holding him there for a few beats, just memorizing the way he looked in that moment, Zim dipped down to kiss him soundly.

He pulled away far sooner than he was sure Dib would have wanted, tugging at his bottom lip with sharp teeth as he did. He smirked down at the human and said to him in an almost husky whisper, “I have missed you, Stinky.”

He did not give the boy a chance to react, instead he forced a change in their positions with a rough shove, pinning Dib to the mattress triumphantly, his lithe legs straddling his hips and allowing delectable friction between them. Zim straightened his spine and dragged his claws down the human’s chest and navel. He looked down at Dib with a hungry smirk, rolling his hips once against the boy just to tease him.

Dib responded to each scratch and poke and tug on his person the way he was sure Zim wanted to hear—breathless gasps, a pained wince and whine at the tug of his hair, a throaty rumble when Zim grabbed his jaw with pointed claws and raised him up somewhat uncomfortably.

He was surprised when Zim kissed him, although he wasn’t sure why he would be. He leaned in to return the kiss, pushing himself up on his hands to reach from the slightly awkward angle, his skin tingling from each touch and a shiver slipping down his spine to settle as a chill in the small of his back. He allowed himself to moan into the kiss, but yelped when Zim pulled back with a tug of teeth on his lip, and stared at him in distress, wanted to say, “I missed you too,” but unable—

That is, until he was promptly flipped without the chance to try to speak, laying now flat on his back under the smaller figure, staring up at him. This was where he belonged, what he was used to—submissive and obedient. He could feel himself tense and shaking, not from fear or nervousness, but simply unreleased energy and lust.

The claws down his chest had him exhaling a shuddering whimper, the friction on his hips causing him to raise his own in response, to meet the sensation and intensify it, his hands hesitantly and cautiously making their way up Zim’s thighs to rest on his hips, fingers digging into skin. His back arched into the grazing touch, his head falling back into the mattress and exposing his throat, tensing and untensing his hands against Zim’s skin.

At the next roll of the Irken’s hips, Dib gasped and snapped opened his eyes, not having realized how tightly he’d had them closed, looking at Zim down the bridge of his nose, glasses off-kilter and rendering the other half-blurry but positively animalistic. This was torture of the best kind.

Finally finding his voice, Dib exhaled only his name in an almost inaudible whine. It wasn’t a question or a request. He was begging.

Zim purred in satisfaction at the way that Dib writhed beneath him, the human’s hands groping at him while the boy’s hormones positively cried out in desperation. At the sound of his name muttered so sweetly he walked his hands back up Dib’s chest, his shoulders shifting languidly as he moved, much like a cat stalking prey. One hand grabbed hold of the boy’s jaw, turning his head to the side with a bit of force to expose the side of his neck.

The Irken licked along the jugular vein he had given himself access to, savoring the taste of sweat on Dib’s skin. He let the warmth of his ragged breath fall on the now moist skin for a beat or two before letting out a soft growl and sinking his teeth into the flesh. He barely broke the skin, but felt a perverse satisfaction knowing that the human would be sporting quite a bruise from it. He straightened himself out, grinning widely and tracing the mark with a featherlight touch of his claw.

When he had admired his handiwork enough to satisfy, he turned the boy’s face once again to look him in the eyes. Zim purred softly, a stark contrast to the tight grip he maintained to keep Dib’s focus precisely where he wanted it to be. In a voice that was nearly as threatening as it was sultry and possessive the Irken firmly addressed the boy pinned beneath him, “You belong to me now, Dib.” He released his grip, trailing his hands back down his chest, “This body, it is mine.”

The Irken adjusted his position to allow himself to reach between them and wrap his delicate fingers around Dib’s shaft. He leaned forward enough to line the boy up with him and sink down, taking the length into him with a pained but satisfied hiss. It was nowhere near the pains he had been forced to endure for the last six years and after he took a moment to adjust to the feeling of fullness, it was even pleasant. Zim resumed the rocking of his hips and chittered down at Dib as he moved, “And Zim is yours.”

Dib let himself be manhandled by the Irken, adoring every rough movement of his head and every scratch. He released a deep, slightly pained groan when Zim bit him fully. His heart was racing a mile a minute, and he was receiving nothing but satisfaction from being dominated. The breath on his neck only continued his chills, and he dug his fingers into Zim’s hips, sliding them up and down his sides only to land in the same spot and grab him again.

As Zim turned his face again, none too gently, to look up at him, he was caught by an expression he’d always desired—each time he’d walked away from a particularly brutal fight, staring sometimes for hours at such an intense expression, wrestling and clawing at each other heatedly, he’d arrive home to some very shameful images. The look in Zim’s eyes now reflected that same satisfaction whenever Dib walked away from a fight limping, bruised, or bleeding.

He could only nod when Zim told him the what-for—he knew he belonged to him, that whatever he was asked, he would do, willingly, in an instant. Those words were as much a threat as they were a promise, and Dib was in—

As Zim began to take him, Dib felt his eyes roll back. He squeezed onto Zim’s hips, tossed his head back, and released a groan he couldn’t even begin to describe. Suddenly, and with pure ecstasy and desperation, he’d found his voice as Zim took him. “Fuck, Zim, fuck—”

The sounds, the movements, the nails on his chest, the feeling of his skin, the tightness of him—

Dib couldn’t help but roll his hips up to match the Irken’s, tugging his lip between his teeth and biting it hard, one hand sliding to rest on Zim’s abdomen as if to steady him or just simply feel him, he wasn’t sure.

“Christ.”

The curses from the human brought a smile tugging at the corner of the Irken’s lips as he panted heavily with each movement. Zim rolled his hips and abdomen with a dancer’s grace, his movements seeming fluid and effortless. He brought one hand to cover Dib’s which had come to rest on his stomach as he chittered and mewled in slack jawed delight and adjusted his rhythm to match the upward thrusts of the boy beneath him.

Zim’s entire body was hypersensitive and reactive, every touch and movement sending waves of ecstasy like electricity through him. He had a knot of pressure in his guts that was exquisitely painful and made him yearn for more contact, to touch, taste and take more of the boy as his.

Zim leaned forward, never ceasing the movement of his hips, and sunk his teeth into the boy’s chest, maintaining the pressure of the bite for several long beats as he moved. The feeling of Dib’s heart hammering beneath the bite brought on a perfectly lewd and undignified moan from the alien.

His hands slid up the human’s pale chest, coming to rest at his shoulders which Zim gripped tightly as he pushed himself back up. One particularly enthusiastic thrust from his lover made him actually yelp, crying out the boy’s name as precum began to seep from the tip of his own painfully hard member.

Now that Dib had found his voice, he could not keep his mouth shut. His hands freely explored as much of Zim as he could reach. Every inch of him would feel callused hands as he groaned loudly. He almost felt bad for the neighbors. “Christ—” At the bite to his chest, he wailed, hand finding the small of the Irken’s back as he moved roughly into him, feeling the arch in his spine and the heat radiating off his skin. “Fuck, I missed you—”

They were at war with each other. Two techniques each clamoring for victory. Each movement of Zim’s felt predetermined, controlled, and graceful, taking all of him flawlessly and with such intention. Dib couldn’t seem to control himself at all, his base animal instincts taken over as he moved with abandon into him. His nails dug into Zim’s back where he’d held him.

His name sliding from Zim’s mouth was almost liberating. His other hand began to make his way back down the length of the lithe form, before taking his dripping member in his hand, and pumping to match his thrusts. It was simultaneously too much and not enough.

“I can’t—” He whined, tension bubbling deep in his abdomen and spreading like venom through his bloodstream, pounding up his spine. His head was still tossed back, eyes screwed shut in ecstasy, glasses tilted atop his head. Letting go of Zim’s back, he hauled him back down to kiss him passionately, tongue slipping between sharp teeth, moaning heatedly into his mouth, taking Zim’s hand in his own and squeezing it tightly.  His entire body was on fire. “Zim—” he almost snarled the warning.

Zim’s eyes shut tightly when Dib wrapped his hand around him, stroking his shaft with firm and quick flicks of his wrist.  It made his legs quiver and he very nearly lost his rhythm and made him rely heavily on the frantic thrusting of his mate to maintain the friction.

He practically collapsed against Dib when his head was pulled back down, and he was kissed with such passion and gusto. His claws dug into Dib’s shoulders as he kissed back with just as much need. He was left breathless and panting, feeling like his body was about to explode when Dib broke the kiss. The way that his name was spoken in such desperate reverence while Dib stroked him and thrust into him with reckless abandon was more than Zim could handle.

His head lolled back, and he cried out the human’s name again as he climaxed between them, leaving the boy’s stomach coated in his translucent pink cum.

As Zim came, his body pulsing with release, Dib could do nothing more to hold back. He gripped onto Zim like he was going to fade to dust between his fingers, calling for his lover once more as he joined in release.

Slowly, Dib’s grip slackened as he regained his breath and the fire fueling his blood began to settle. He released one final, long and low moan as he slid out from Zim, glancing down at the pink on his abdomen but shrugging mentally, too worn out to move. He shifted slightly, and moved Zim down next to him, wrapping an arm around the smaller boy.

“I—” Nothing he could say would be enough. How could it? How could he put words to the purely religious experience they both shared? He shuddered aftershocks against the Irken, reached a weak hand up to readjust his glasses. His shoulders were bleeding. The bruise on his chest was darkened by the bite that followed. He turned slightly, hugging Zim to him, and kissed the top of his head.

“That was incredible. You’re incredible.” He needed a cigarette. He pawed his free hand at the side table, attempting to use one hand to grab one from the pack. There was no way he was moving.

Zim’s body shook from his climax and the feeling of Dib coming inside of him. He was weak and simply submitted to being moved to the human’s side. He pressed his face against Dib’s chest and clung to him as tightly as his trembling arms would allow.

It was an incredible experience, mind blowing even. But with the adrenaline now coursing through him, the whole of his experience tonight seemed to catch up with him. A white-hot knot formed in his throat which he tried to swallow thickly, and he took a few deep and uneven breaths to try to combat the urge to sob against his mate. He hoped that the breaths would just be interpreted as needing a moment to compose himself in the afterglow of their coupling.

After a few moments when he felt that he had a good grip on his emotions Zim cleared his throat and mused almost casually, though his face was still hidden against the boy, “It was, yes…” he chuckled softly and added, “Hi Skool could have been far more entertaining if I had not been, ah… such a brat , as I recall you putting it, and let this happen between us when you wanted it to.”

Dib chuckled against the top of Zim’s head, finally pulling a cigarette out of his pack, and feeling around for a lighter. He was happy to have Zim cuddled up on his chest, held tight to him as they descended from their highs together. It was almost overwhelming–but it was everything and more than he could ever ask for.

He lit his smoke, inhaling deeply and slowly before releasing the smoke in a languid, patient breath. He glanced down after a moment. “I think the timing was more than perfect, brat. …hey, you ok over there?” Dib gave Zim a squeeze. He seemed slightly off; it could just be the aftereffects of their lovemaking (Dib himself was still slightly in awe of it), but he figured it was best to be sure.

Six years they had gone without seeing one another. After two, Dib had given up looking. It wasn’t like he didn’t try, no, God no, he had exhausted everything in his repertoire. After two years of nothing, of silence, he couldn’t take it anymore. It was easier to give up, to believe that Zim hadn’t wanted him anymore, and to let himself descend into self-destruction. Another long drag on his smoke as he stared up into the ceiling.

Now here he was, in his arms, pinkish cum on his belly and bite marks tainting his skin, bruised and battered. It was like he had never left–but the reality was, he had, and he couldn’t imagine the terror Zim had been through. They were both so different. It made him sick. ‘We’re going to figure this out’, he promised the other silently. He was so tired. The last six years and caught up to him.

The question made Zim’s nerves flutter up in his chest, having been called out on his inner turmoil made it that much harder to conceal. But he was determined to not let himself ruin this moment. All of the things he was holding onto and would spend the next stretch of his life coping with, they could be bottled up for a single night. There was so much they would have to deal with in the next few days to keep the both of them safe and let them live this life together.

But he owed Dib the relief of a few hours to simply hold him and he needed it, too. He had no delusion about what coming to Dib meant. It meant that he had just dragged the boy into a world of chaos in which he was a wanted fugitive and the human was his accomplice.

He took one more deep breath against the boy before lifting his head to look at the boy with a slightly strained smile, “Of course Zim is fine, Dib-stink. It has been a… strenuous day.”

Zim moved his hand to rest on Dib’s neck and began to trace the shape of his jaw with the pad of his thumb. He was beginning to enjoy the feel of the prickly stubble against his skin. He let out a sigh and pressed his cheek against Dib’s chest as he looked up at him, “I just need to rest.”

Dib allowed himself a soft sigh of his own at Zim’s thumb along his jaw, leaning his head back into the pillow and closing his eyes as he smoked. He was exhausted too, and while he didn’t believe Zim, they could talk about it in the morning. “Alright, space boy,” was all the response he offered, hoping Zim could hear the reassurance in his voice that he wasn’t going to push the issue now, but that he wasn’t going to let it go, either.

He didn’t doubt that wherever he was the past six years, whoever took him, was looking for him. He heard the patter of light rain on the porch and it lulled him into relaxation with his lover–his mate as Zim called it. He had so wanted when they were younger to learn about Irken society and relationships, and to teach Zim about human ones. He wanted to cross those cultural barriers together. Build a life together.

He’d wanted to travel the galaxy, hell, the universe with him. He wasn’t sure they’d ever get the chance now, but he had a feeling in the pit of his gut that maybe leaving Earth would be their only option. Smoke finished, he snuffed it directly on the nightstand, ashtray on the other side of them. With another gentle squeeze of the Irken in his arms, he drifted off to sleep.

It was a bit of a relief when Dib fell asleep, his breaths evening out and a soft snore beginning to rumble through him. There was no way that the Irken would actually be able to lull himself into a sleep cycle, not with everything that had happened today. But it did mean that Zim did not have to talk anymore. No more explanations or confessing feelings. He got to just lay in silence, listening to the boy’s heartbeat to try to drown out the sounds of rain which picked up in intensity rather quickly. While the rain itself always made him a little anxious, and tonight was no exception, he reminded himself that the torrential downpour would help to cover his tracks, assuming that he had succeeded in losing his pursuers.  

That was another reason that would prevent him from sleeping tonight. There was a very real possibility that his captors were on his heels and might come breaking down Dib’s door looking for him. He refused to be caught off guard. Already his PAK was working on healing his body; it was slower without sleep, but he was well enough that he could fight again if he needed to. And he would, if they dared to threaten the safety of his mate.

Some of the cracks of thunder that would tear through the sky would cause his body to stiffen, but it was as if even in his sleep Dib was able to sense his distress and would pull him closer, keeping him wrapped in the encircling warmth of his arms. Dib kept him grounded, preventing him from spiraling into panic as the invader pondered their next move.

They needed to leave here. Leave the city, at least. Preferably, he needed to get his hands back on his Voot. Maybe Dib still had some of his tech stashed somewhere that they would be able to make use of.

For hours he stayed as still and as quiet as he could manage, straining at the sound of every car door in the parking lot and every footstep in the hall. When the sky outside began to lighten Zim slipped out from Dib’s grip with incredible grace, never rousing the human with his movements. He plucked the shirt Dib had been wearing from the foot of the bed and slipped it over his head as he made his way over to the balcony door. He did not open it, knowing full well that he could not go outside, and risk being seen. Instead he sat on the cleanest patch of carpet he could find and rested his head on the door frame to watch the sun rise for the first time in six years.

Dib, in contrast to and completely unaware of Zim’s distress throughout the night, got the first restful sleep he’d had in years. Normally, in order to fall asleep at all, he’d have to drink himself into a stupor or get higher than the Eiffel Tower. However, when Dib awoke, stretching and releasing a satisfied groan, panic immediately filled his chest when he didn’t feel Zim beside him. He shot up in bed, heart immediately pounding in his ears as anxiety flooded his entire system.

He scrambled quickly for his glasses, shoving them a little too roughly onto his face and almost poking out an eye before he turned to the balcony doors and saw Zim, curled and snuggled in his shirt on the floor, staring out the window. Relief flooded his system, along with worry. Cautiously, still groggy from sleep, Dib tugged on a pair of bottoms and moved to join the other, sitting down next to him.

“Mornin’, Beansprout. You sleep okay?” Dib asked awkwardly. Now that he was rested, and sober, and the reality of this horrible situation was beginning to sink in, he realized that he had no idea how he should be interacting with Zim. He fidgeted a little, wanting to reach out and touch him, kiss him, but not wanting to startle him or make him uncomfortable. Dib was immediately tired again–or maybe just emotionally exhausted.

He knew logically that these thoughts were irrational—Zim had called him his Tallest, his mate, and they had made love last night. They were reunited and reconnected. Despite the danger, being with him was all Dib ever wanted and needed in this world, and yet, he couldn’t just be himself.

Not that he even knew who that was anymore. He’d spent six years in a depressive downward spiral, slowly getting worse and worse, until late yesterday, when he had been about to leap from the balcony, ten stories down with a crushing splat. Zim saved his life in risking his own trying to escape. Zim didn’t deserve this shitty, filthy apartment. Didn’t deserve a mate with a drug and alcohol addiction, someone who’d given up on all of his interests, with no passion or motivation or even interest in anything.

Zim deserved better than this broken, tired version of Dib Membrane.

He needed a fucking drink.

Zim wished that this had been one of those mornings that the sky would be streaked brilliantly with pinks and purples. Colors that spilled their way across the sky like ink dropped into water. He wanted to feel hopeful as the sun crept its way over the horizon, casting away the darkness and uncertainty of night. The rains persisted, revealing to him only gloom   hanging over the dingy city. It seemed to reflect his mind in a way that was almost poetic in its cruel ironies.

His antenna stood alert when he heard Dib’s sudden intake of startled breath, his head snapping towards the bed attentively at his sudden movement and watched him make the way across the room to him, obviously relieved that the Irken had not disappeared once again.

Zim waited until the human sat down next to him and he proceeded to climb into Dib’s lap. He still faced the glass door, watching the thick raindrops fall onto it in their chorus of taunting pitter patter.

“I did not sleep.” he answered truthfully, resting his head on his mate’s chest. “I do not need to, and it was for the best to keep a watch through the night.”

He lifted a hand which he draped loosely on the boy’s shoulder and then added, “We need a plan, Dib. I know that the chances are… not good, but did you keep anything of mine? Stashed away somewhere?”

Dib relaxed the moment he felt Zim in his arms, tying them around the other and resting his chin on the alien’s head as he nuzzled into his chest. He slipped his arms around Zim, holding him tightly. The rain was gloomy, and he’d rather not sit too close to the glass doors with his green-skinned escapee. “I understand, but I do wish you’d gotten some more rest after everything you’d been through. I could’ve stayed up instead.” He gave Zim a light squeeze, lifting Zim up into his arms easily as he stood. Serious conversations needed a serious drink, and with the way he woke up feeling, it was a lot.

“I might. I’d have to get in touch with Gaz. Dad might have kept everything I left at the house. It wasn’t like I moved out on bad terms with them or anything. No terms at all, actually. I didn’t even pack much. Just took off,” Dib continued, clearing enough space on the counter to brew some coffee and rattling dishes into the sink, holding Zim up and against him with one arm almost child-style. The Irken wasn’t tiny, probably around 4’10 to his 6’2, but still light as a feather, especially now that he was slightly emaciated himself. “I could find out at least. I might have some simple shit stashed under the bed. Radios and stuff. I did search space for you.”

As the coffee was brewing, Dib pulled down a mug from the cupboard along with a bottle of amber liquid, using one hand to unscrew and pour a few shots into his cup. He needed a smoke. Rather than standing by the percolator waiting for it to be ready, Dib carried Zim with him to grab a cigarette, eyes casting glances toward the bathroom door. He still had coke in there, sitting on the counter in plain sight. He’d either need to hide it or snort it… but maybe he could just hold off. Maybe he didn’t need it.

“We’re back together again. I’m sure that together we can figure this out. We’ve gotta get out of here as soon as possible though, that’s for sure.” At least, he hoped. His confidence in himself had seriously dwindled. Maybe Zim would be able to survive if Dib got him off the planet alone. He’d probably be happier. Dib made his way back into the kitchen, talking almost just to fill the space, lighting his cigarette and trying to keep the smoke out of Zim’s face. He shot another glance toward the bathroom. Zim in his arm was giving him comfort, at least. He poured the coffee into his whiskey.

“I might have soda in the fridge, maybe some candy somewhere. Want me to take a look?” As silly as it sounded to be talking about snacks, he was sure Zim hadn’t eaten properly in the last six years, and Dib knew his diet perfectly.

When he was lifted onto Dib’s hip Zim wrapped his legs around the human to help support himself, though Dib did not truly need his help in that regard. It was a bit of a degrading position and in other circumstances he likely would have given him a sharp smack on the back of his head for it. But this time he decided to just surrender to it.

He had been hoping for better news than what was delivered. Only the possibility of a radio and basic tech he was sure that if Dib was still in possession of Tak’s Voot that probably would have been mentioned. And even those meager resources were in one of the very last places he would want to go.

Zim swallowed thickly, focusing on his breath as Dib spoke and lit his foul-smelling cigarette.  When the boy asked if he wanted something to eat, he gave a distracted nod and unlaced his legs from around Dib, slipping off of his hip to stand on the floor next to him.

His heart hammered in his chest as vivid memories from his time in the lab surfaced in his mind. He did not crane his neck to look at his mate instead he seemed to become very interested in a peeling spot of linoleum on the floor. His breathing was elevated as he answered, "The Dib-father cannot know we were at that house. If Dib-sister might tell him we were there, she cannot know either. You understand?”

Dib chuckled slightly when Zim dropped out of his arms, chugging down his mostly scalding coffee and opening the fridge, tugging out a can of soda for Zim. After handing it to the other, be began to dig around in his mostly bare cabinets for something he could snack on. Damn, this was bleak. When did he last get groceries? Finally, in the back of the cabinet, he found a box of Halloween candy, months old now. It would have to do; he would buy more today. “Probably stale, but this is all I’ve got. Sorry,” he said, offering it to the other before he continued. Although he felt a bit better with some coffee and liquor in him, the tension in the apartment was palpable. They were both stressed.

“I doubt Gaz would tell Dad anything. She talks to him almost as little as she talks to me, but—why? Zim, Dad’s never paid you any attention, I doubt he’d be a threat,” Dib reassured, leaning against the counter and observing Zim’s body language. Woah, okay. No go.

“But I understand. If you’re unsure I won’t talk to her, and I can always go by myself if it makes you that nervous. I can get you a motel room in town to hide in for a few days—pay cash, ‘they’, whoever they are, would have a real hard time tracking you down that way, and I can gather anything I’d left at the house without putting you in more danger. I dunno, pick up a burner phone or something so we can stay in contact.” Dib didn’t want Zim going anywhere at all, nevermind with him to his dad’s. Zim’s reaction to his father made his stomach turn.

Dib didn’t like how anxious Zim seemed. Something was wrong. Well, fuck, Dib, of course something was wrong. Do you have no recollection of what Zim told you? Cringing, and hoping Zim wouldn’t follow him, he chugged down the rest of his coffee, putting his cigarette out absently in an open soda can—he wasn’t sure how long that had been there—and made his way to the bathroom, cautiously placing a kiss to Zim’s forehead as he walked by. “I’m not going to let them find you again,” he called out the reassurance, hoping Zim believed how hard he intended to work and how determined he was, now that he’d returned, to not screw this up for them. He’d defend Zim with his life if that’s what it took.

Zim should be the one to live if he had a choice. Not him.

Just one. He’d throw the rest out.

Zim felt acute panic swelling in his chest at the human’s almost blasé reaction to his warning. The Irken followed the boy’s movements toward the bathroom and found himself trailing after him. Before he was able to close the bathroom door Zim reached out to grab his hand roughly and pull on him to halt the movement. He looked up at the boy, his frantic eyes pleading with him to understand.

“NO. Dib, if we go to your house to get anything you are not going alone, and we cannot be seen. We cannot leave any trace that we were there. Cover of night. We have to get in, take everything we can carry from your room and the professor's lab and get out. Your father cannot know either of us were ever there. Do you understand, Dib?”

Dib turned to look down at Zim when Zim grabbed him, startled. “Woah, Zim,” he muttered, gently taking his hand back and guiding Zim toward the bed, sitting him down. He didn’t know what this panic was about his house and his father, but he was going to find out. Dib kneeled down in front of Zim, taking his hands in his own and looking up at him. It was all he knew how to do to reassure the other. Full attention, make himself smaller.

“Okay. I understand, I do. I just worry about you coming with me and being seen. If someone sees me, I can talk my way out of it not knowing where you are, but if you’re sure that it's best we go together, that’s what we’ll do, alright? We won’t be seen; we’ll be careful and take extra precautions. I promise, Zim,” Dib’s heart pounded in his chest as he tried to calm the Irken. Seeing him like this was awful. The frantic, anxious expression made him squeeze Zim’s hands once more as he continued, “But you have to tell me what’s going on, I can’t help you if I don’t know. Where is this—” Dib stopped himself and his eyes widened slowly in fearful realization.

He couldn’t say for sure. Zim didn’t tell him much of anything about where he was or what happened, or who had taken him. He wouldn’t expect his father to be involved, he was so against the idea of aliens being real—but whoever it was that took Zim could have called him in… as much as he disliked his father, he had a hard time believing it. In the end, Zim’s reaction was far more important.

“He was there… Tell me, was he there?!”

He let himself be led to the bed and sat down, allowing Dib to take his hands. He did not want to share the gruesome details of his experiences in the labs. He did not want to tell him about the cruel things his father had done to him in the name of science and sheer curiosity.

He did not want to remember way that his own scared face would be reflected in the professor’s large, circular glasses. Or the way that he had grown to fear that human who looked so much like his lover.

But he would not lie to Dib about it. He nodded in response weakly, after a beat or two finally saying, “He was there … But I do not think he really recognized me.”

Zim took a deep breath before continuing on quickly, “I do know that the Dib-father had access to Zim’s belongings. Some of it may even be in the lab at the house. If my communicator is there, almost any piece of my computer I can re-engineer it while we travel. If any of Takship is left, we can use the pieces to put together a Voot that will at least get us to the next star system where we can reassess our plan and get better supplies.  We can get off this filthy rock for good. No Empire, no humans. Just Zim and Dib.”

Dib knew he was squeezing Zim’s hands a little too roughly as he was listening. He was there. He was a part of this. It didn’t matter that his father didn’t realize who it was, it didn’t matter at all that he was just doing his job. The rage filled him from head to toes. As Zim spoke, he heard what he was saying, but he couldn’t focus on the words, couldn’t focus on anything but the fact that Zim had become his father’s project.

Slowly, and with measured movements, eliciting all the control within himself he could muster, Dib rose. “Okay. That’s our plan, then,” he said, leaning down only to place a soft kiss to the corner of Zim’s mouth, finally releasing his hands and walking stiffly into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him a little too hard. He realized he had been holding his breath and released it shakily as he leaned against the closed door.

He saw the pouch of cocaine on the counter as his blood continued to boil.

He was going to kill the piece of shit.

He was shaking furiously as he emptied the pouch and made the lines.

The sick fuck.

His nostrils burned as he snorted the powder. He gripped the counter tightly in his hands as he rose back up with a slight gasp to stare into the cracked mirror.

He’d once wanted to do the very same as a child.

All he saw in the mirror was his father’s face. Aged, bitter, and weak.

With frenzied indignation, Dib crashed his fist into the mirror, slicing open his knuckles and shattering glass to the floor. Up until now, he couldn’t imagine his father experimenting on live subjects—especially aliens, they weren’t even real to him—but now all he could picture were his father’s hands on his boyfriend.

How could he let this happen? He should have looked harder, looked longer. He should have done better to protect him. Zim deserved better than him. His fist reconnected with the remnants of glass, but he didn’t feel the pain.

He knew this had to be a lot for Dib to process. The fact that Zim had been here in the city this entire time, under the watchful eye of his father. He accepted Dib walking away after assuring him that they would follow his plan, he did not flinch at the slamming door.

Even the first sound of glass shattering, Zim was willing to accept, though he did stand from the bed at that point, walking calmly toward the bathroom door. It was not like breaking things in response to anger was out of the norm for either himself or for his mate.

The second hit though, he knew he had to put a stop to what Dib was doing before the boy ended up hurting himself. He scowled at the door and gave it a forceful kick, succeeding in completely breaking the already damaged knob as it flew open to reveal his mate, hand bleeding. He narrowed his eyes at the human and demanded, “Stop it now, Dib.”

As he looked up at the boy, he also noticed immediately the traces of white powder on his nose. Zim turned his head to the counter where he saw the empty bag and residue. His head snapped back toward Dib, a hiss escaping through his teeth as he surged forward, pushing the much taller male forcefully. Zim grabbed the baggie, holding it between his thumb and forefinger as he snarled, “Are you fucking serious?”

He threw the plastic at Dib’s feet and continued, his voice becoming more strained and venomous with every word, “This is not an answer, human. This is going to get you killed. I am willing to accept that you have a problem, I know that this problem is my fault. I am not willing to accept you hiding it from me. Hiding it behind my back is no different than lying to my face. I have given you my trust, do not make me regret doing so.”

Zim huffed audibly and folded his arms across his chest, his eyes still narrowed viciously at the human, “I strongly suggest never giving me reason to have to say this ever again.”

Dib was panting heavily when he turned to Zim at the door being kicked in, eyes frenzied. Blood dripped steadily from his hand, and he could feel shards of glass in his knuckles. Unconsciously, he raised his other to wipe the powder from his face as he turned away from the shove and Zim’s lecture, cringing as he landed hard against the counter.

He nodded slowly, clenching his eyes tightly as he tried to breathe. “I know. I’m sorry,” he muttered, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. He shook his head. “This problem is not your fault, Zim. It isn’t, it couldn’t be. I wasn’t—I didn’t do enough. I didn’t try hard enough. I didn’t look hard enough for you. I failed, and I let my piece of shit father—” he clenched his bleeding hand.

“I failed you,” Dib murmured. Taking a breath, he took a moment to absorb the rest of what Zim said. He didn’t want Zim to see him like this. He didn’t want this addiction with Zim here and somewhat safe with him. He didn’t want the dependence, but he knew he was always dependent on something. His passions, Zim, and now this, but he was right. It wasn’t fair to the other to act like it wasn’t happening, to hide like a fiend in the bathroom (not that he could anymore, what with the broken knob). He was right, but he didn’t have a remedy. “I won’t hide it from you,” he promised softly, arms dropping limply to his sides. He couldn’t keep looking at Zim and seeing the disappointment in his face, or the anger directed at him.

“But I don’t know what to do,” he continued pathetically. “I don’t have the strength to stop this,” he gestured vaguely toward the baggie down at his feet. He wanted to try, for himself and for Zim, to really give them a chance at a life together outside this stupid dirtball of a planet, the one that broke them so much. He just didn’t know how.

It was all his fault. Maybe if he’d convinced Zim to get a better disguise after they’d started dating. Maybe if he’d asked Zim to be with him sooner. Maybe if he’d kept looking, he would have found him, and they’d be far, far away by now. His hand was starting to sting, and his head was swimming from the drugs and the fury, and the fear of losing Zim again. He was glad to be alive solely for the fact that Zim was here now and he could help to keep him safe—but there was no way he was good enough for Zim anymore. He’d never be enough. Eyes starting to sting, he raised his undamaged hand to push under his glasses and cover his eyes, releasing a pained sob he couldn’t hold back any longer, hating that Zim had to see him like this, hating himself for everything he did, had never done, and could never repair.

This was the first time since he found himself here that Zim really looked at the state Dib was in, pale from lack of sunshine, emaciated from his habitual drug use, in nothing but his underwear, covered in bruises, scratches and bites, bleeding from his hand, spinning self-pitying excuses and now sobbing. It made his heart break a thousand times over and it also made him want to throttle the human within an inch of his life for being so fucking stupid.

“You do not have the strength?” The Irken unfolded his arms, letting them hang at his sides, fists clenching, unsure if he wanted to pull the boy into a hug and tell him that everything would work out, or if he wanted to slap him soundly. Both seemed like perfectly reasonable responses. “That is bullshit and we both know it. Everything you have just said to me is just bullshit.”

Zim glowered as he continued, “Do I wish you had not given up on finding me? Sure. Would you finding me and stopping your father from putting me in sensory deprivation tanks full of water have been a preferred experience.   Absolutely.  But you did give up. I did go through all of that and I got myself out of it. But now, I am here, with you, and you have a chance to make it right. So, what will Dib do now?”

The alien turned to walk out of the bathroom, picking up the soda can from the counter on his way back to the bed, which he plopped himself on angrily before calling into Dib’s general direction, “I would suggest remembering who you are. The boy that had the strength to teach an Irken how to fall in love.”

Dib leaned back against the counter as Zim pulled away to sit on the bed. He kept himself turned from him, shoulders shaking gently as he cried silently. He must have looked an absolute fool. Zim didn’t deserve this version of himself.

What would he do now? The question reverberated around in his head. Fuck, he needed to get his shit together. For himself, for Zim, for their life together, and everything they lost. They had the chance now to do it again and start over if they could just get out of this. They would get out of this.

A soft sob fell from his mouth as he straightened up, rubbing his eyes. This was pathetic, and Zim was right: it was all bullshit. He knew that. Zim had survived and still had fight in him. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what he had been through: six years of pure hell. The image of Zim in a vat of water, burning alive slowly, made him sick to his stomach. Yet here he was, alive and full of the same determination.

Dib didn’t know if he should apologize or if that would just make Zim angrier. Without turning to him, trying to get himself together, he said with as much strength as he could muster, “You’re right. I’m going to deal with this, and we’re going to get you out of here, off this planet, safely, but I swear to you, if I see him–” he stopped himself and breathed before the fury could take over.

Zim needed him right now. Needed him strong, passionate, and able to fight. Able to work harder than he ever had for anything to make sure that they were safe. It wasn’t fair of Dib to feel the way he did. Zim had always been stronger, braver, and more capable–but had he? He recalled them being matched once upon a time, and…wait, love?

It was the first time they’d put the word to the feeling, and hearing it said now split his heart down the middle. Dib realized in that moment, too, that he needed help of his own. He’d never do better if he didn’t reach out and admit to all of this. His voice was almost inaudible when he added, “I don’t know how to fix myself. I know I have to, I want to, but I don’t know how.” Finally, he turned to Zim, fear and self-loathing in his eyes. Honesty. No more hiding. “If I hadn’t found you today—I almost—I was minutes from—I—was going to jump. From the balcony.” God. He couldn’t look anymore. He closed his eyes again tightly and turned away.

Zim had popped the tab on his soda can in frustration, drinking several mouthfuls of the bubbly sugar drink as he fumed, listening to his mate cry. He was torn between being livid at Dib and wanting so badly to hold him, reassure him. The thoughts alone made him realize how much the years had changed him. He did not act on the desire, choosing instead to let the human think about what he had done for a few minutes before the invader was willing to stop being mad at him.

He had nearly finished the drink by the time that he heard Dib start speaking from the bathroom. His antenna were at full alert, hanging onto every word, even though he refused to look at the human. He nodded once at the eluded vow of patricide, silently appreciating the notion for what it was. He had the opportunity to kill the professor, but when the moment came, he just knocked the man out with a hit to the jaw from one of his PAK legs. He deserved far worse, but when his glasses had been knocked to the floor and Zim had seen his honey colored eyes he couldn’t bring himself to land a fatal blow.

He did not expect, or even want revenge. He especially did not expect Dib to exact it for him. He just wanted to get off this rock with his human.

He did turn his head to face his mate the next time he spoke, the strain in Dib’s voice causing a flutter of worry to erupt in his chest. The words that came did nothing to soothe the fear. In that moment he forgot entirely that he was mad at the human as he asked sadly, his crimson eyes wide and imploring as he looked up at him, “You were going to …”

He did not know what to say, nor what to do for his mate. Knowing that he had very nearly been too late to ever see Dib again immediately brought on tears that rimmed his eyes. In that moment Zim dropped his nearly empty soda onto the carpet and launched himself off of the bed towards Dib. It was not like the many times in their lives when Zim had tackled Dib roughly to knock him down and hurt him, rather, Zim threw himself into the human, wrapping his arms as tight as he could around his waist. He pressed his face firmly against the boy’s chest, shaking his head, “You cannot delete Dib. I will not let you. You are the only thing that Zim has left.”

Instinctively, Dib flinched when Zim threw himself at him, taking a step back to steady himself. It took a moment to realize that he wasn’t going to be accosted by violent swings or spider legs, but he relaxed only slightly into Zim’s hold when he did. He continued crying softly, loosely wrapping his arms around the Irken and resting his face on the top of his head.

They would fix this, both of them. Zim’s trauma and his own depression and harmful tendencies. They might be shell-shocked for years, but at least they’d be shell-shocked together, safe somewhere else. Zim could show him the universe. He almost didn’t get the chance…

Dib’s grip tightened around Zim as he let out another sob. He could’ve lost everything, and Zim would have been left to die in the parking lot of his building as just another experiment. They couldn’t be safe on Earth, and Dib couldn’t picture where they would go–Irk maybe? —but he knew Zim would find a way. They needed both of their skills now.

Slowly, Dib took a deep inhale and gently peeled Zim back to look down at him. He’d stopped crying, but tears still stained his face and reddened his eyes. He looked into Zim’s, full of worry. “We have to get to work. Can’t stand around crying to each other all day, huh?” he asked weakly, raising a hand to graze the pad of his thumb along Zim’s cheek, only then realizing that he had shards of glass gouging into his fist. “Ahh, shit,” he murmured, pain settling in now that the adrenaline of the last fifteen minutes had worn of.

Zim resisted being pulled away from the human for a beat or two, just long enough to press his forehead against the boy in affection before looking up at Dib and wiping away the tears that fell on his own cheeks. He took a single deep breath and gave the human a nod. Truly they had been idle for too long, time was of the essence.

He looked at the boy’s hand, noting the glass still in it with a frown. “Wash that wound. It needs to be disinfected and wrapped. It would be unfortunate to make a daring escape from your planet, only to have you die of infection.”

He lifted his own hand to grip the human’s neck and pull him down into a kiss. It was not like the passionate and drawn out kisses he gave to the boy last night. Instead it was short and chaste, merely to let Dib know that he was done being mad at him for the time being.

When he pulled back, Zim had a look of determination on his face, “You do have a computer, yes? Any computer? I can do a test run of hacking the security at the Dib House to see what we are up against. If my cameras are still in place, I may be able to tap into them and maybe assess what is available in the Dib-father’s lab. Having an idea is better than going in blind.”

Dib took a ragged breath after the kiss, straightening himself up and rubbing his face with his un-bloody hand. He nodded in response, turning back into the bathroom and turning on the tap, rinsing his hand first so that he could see the shards of glass more easily. “Yeah, that’d be a shame, huh?” Dib tried his hand at humor in this moment, glancing anxiously at Zim before turning his eyes back down to his hands in the sink. He wondered if he’d ever feel normal around Zim again.

“I do, yeah. There’s a laptop kicking around here somewhere with some equipment I’d use to listen and look into space. Should be near the balcony doors, but don’t stand too close to the glass for long,” he warned, picking up a pair of tweezers and carefully plucking the pieces from between his knuckles.

“Other than that, I’ve got my phone. Do they—do they know anything about me? Did—did Dad know?” Dib asked, casting a glance to Zim. He wasn’t going to pry too much or force Zim to talk about anything he didn’t want to relive, and there was no way he’d ever blame Zim for talking under such circumstances. He just needed to know what they were up against. He only hoped that Zim hadn’t cracked so that they’d have a little more time to prepare. Zim would be safe here if they didn’t know anything, but if they did, he and Zim would have to leave now.

Once all the glass was removed, Dib rose again to his full height and took a deep breath. “I’ve also still got access to my college fund. Dad doesn’t know I dropped out. If we need to buy anything, I can go get it.” It was how he was paying for the apartment. And the drugs.

Zim glanced over to the door where Dib had indicated. He could see a pile of primitive electronics. He sighed at the sight, missing his own belongings very much. But he would make do. The Irken grabbed the bag of old Halloween candies and a blanket from the bed, which he draped around himself to help hide some of his green skin as he settled himself back into the same spot by the door where Dib had found him that morning.

As he sorted through the computer equipment, antennas and cords he replied to Dib distractedly, “The Dib-father did not seem to realize who I was or my connection to you.”

Zim grabbed a few cords, stripping them to the wire with his sharp teeth. Nimble fingers worked as he reconfigured the radio set-up to be actually useful. He didn’t know how Dib had ever expected to make any contact with space with this shit. But it made his relentless ruining of his plans all the more impressive, knowing the kind of things the boy had at his disposal.

He reached between his shoulder blades, his PAK opening at a mere thought. A cord snaked out of the backpack like device and the invader promptly opened the bottom of the computer, attaching it to the circuits of the motherboard. When the device booted up it was with the familiar sound of his own computer system, the Irken Armada emblem appearing on the screen.

He had not realized that he had been holding his breath as he waited for that logo. Unsure if the system would work at all. But it seems that just as the control brains prevented the Tallest from actually deleting him, it looked as though his accesses could not be revoked. He let out a sigh of pure relief and then looked back up to address Dib, “I never told them anything about you. I told them very little at all about my activities on Earth, actually. I may be a defective, but I am still Irken and rather strong willed. I did give them information about the Armada. About Red and Purple. Not that any of that matters, the Armada is never coming to Earth.”

He tapped a few keys, sorting out what was still functional in the system, quickly opening up the camera feeds available to him. He wanted to cry out in joy when he saw that at least six cameras at Dib’s house still worked. He resisted the urge, instead flashing a smile up at the human, “I am in. And yes, we do need a few supplies. While I do think I look better in this shirt than you do, some pants that fit me properly would be nice.” Zim glanced outside at the heavy rainfall and added nervously, “And some paste…”

Once all the glass was out of his hand, Dib continued rinsing it for only a few moments before he knelt down to see if he had any bandages under his sink in the cabinet. “Well, that’s good to hear, on both counts. Could buy us some time,” he called in response. Zim had always been stronger-willed than him, and he knew it was part of his alien ‘upbringing’, although Zim had a powerful determination that he hadn’t seen in anyone else of any species. He dug through the crap under the cupboard. Cleaning products he’d never used, unopened bars of soap, a hairbrush? Empty baggies, bits of plastic and dust? Garbage, really. “Shit,” he muttered softly. His hand wouldn’t stop bleeding and he didn’t have any bandages or gauze? What if Zim had showed up and needed some? Rolling his eyes at himself—idiot—he stood back up and grabbed a hand cloth off the shelf, wrapping it tightly around his hand and tying it. This would do until the blood clotted.

“That was fast,” Dib said, turning to Zim and walking out to sit on the edge of the bed and watch Zim. He was always impressed by the Irken’s technological and mechanical prowess. He used to be damn good at it himself, too. He’d completely rebuilt the Takship after all. He’d hacked his way through Zim’s security many a time and hid unnoticed in the lab with Zim in there and his extraordinary sense of hearing and smell. He wondered if he still had access to his own cameras on that laptop… he hadn’t checked in four years. Hell, maybe he still had them connected through the app he built on his phone. “Can you get into the cameras at your base?” He offered, scrounging around for his cell phone. There might be valuable tech there if whoever had Zim didn’t find the place. Clearly his father wouldn’t have known.

“And hey, everything looks better on you. Especially now,” Dib offered a wink at the other—he was constantly uncomfortable in his own skin these days—and looked out into the rain himself. He was glad for it, as it would help to wash away Zim’s trail, but they couldn’t stay here much longer, and he knew how uncomfortable the rain made Zim now more than ever. They’d have trackers and dogs and he was sure many other resources at their disposal to hunt for Zim, whoever they were. “Would you be okay here for a little while? I don’t want you to get wet, but I don’t think we should stay here. I’ll have to go get supplies, come back, and then we’ll leave together.”

It had been an emotional morning, and Dib wasn’t used to being up this early. He was tired, but he knew he needed to power through for both their sakes. He grabbed his cigarettes as he went through his phone, standing to open the kitchen window and pace the apartment, blowing the smoke through the small screen as he played around in the depths of his mobile device.

Zim nodded and mumbled under his breath that it would have been even quicker if he had an actual computer to work with, but there was no real venom in his words, merely his own snide sense of humor. He chuckled once at Dib’s wink and casual flirtation, rolling his eyes at the self-deprecation hidden in the complement, choosing not to feed into it, focusing instead on the camera feeds. The lab at the Membrane residence did not seem to have any of his personal belongings at a glance, but there were weapons and various pieces of tech which might prove useful.

At Dib’s question if he would be okay on his own for a while Zim felt worry flutter in his chest. Not for his own well-being, but at the thought of Dib being out of his sight. He did not like it. But he knew that him going outside right now, no disguise, barely anything he could call clothing, that was far more dangerous for his mate than if he were to let him go on his own.

“I do not see much of another choice.” He responded cautiously, his disapproval evident in his tone. With a sigh he turned the video feeds to that of his own base. Not that it was recognizable as such at this point. Nearly everything had been stripped from the ground floor and perusing further down he found that many things had been taken. Still may be worth their time to gather what was left.

The deeper into the base he got the less disruption there was. He noted that the actual control panel of his computer seemed untouched entirely. It would seem they were unable to get that far. It was hard to tell if GIR’s quarters had been ransacked, seeing as it was a disaster, and probably a health hazard, to begin with. With a sigh he looked to Dib by the window, “They certainly know where my base is. If the roles were reversed and I was tracking me, that would be the first place I would be monitoring in case I was planning on doing exactly what I am planning on doing. I don’t imagine we can get in without a fight.”

Dib cocked his head slightly at Zim’s words, finally connecting his phone to the same feeds that Zim had on the laptop. It was bleak–just as ransacked as he had seen years ago, only now he understood why. He couldn’t see much on the small screen, so with a sigh and a finished cigarette, he poured himself another cup of coffee, hand hesitating over the bottle of whiskey he would normally top off his caffeine with. He was just about to open the cap when he instead shoved it to the back of the counter and returned to the main room, chugging the coffee to distract himself from the thought.

“Yeah, I saw that,” he wiggled his phone in Zim’s direction. “Do you think it’s too dangerous to go in? I don’t want to risk you getting captured again.” Dib set the coffee down on his dresser, scrounging around for clean clothing and tugging himself into them. Black jeans and an old Mysterious Mysteries shirt were all he had left. He really did think it was safer for him to go by himself back home and to Zim’s if necessary, with Zim holed up in a motel somewhere. Pay by cash at a dingy motel with lots of people around? He’d be pretty hard to track down if they could get him a better disguise. However, Zim had nixed that idea earlier, and arguing with Zim on this wouldn’t go over well. He didn’t have the right to argue, especially now.

Tugging his jacket on and grabbing his wallet off the nightstand, Dib made his way over to Zim, crouching down to watch the slightly bigger screen with him for a moment. Dib wanted to kiss him again, to have a moment of peace holding him. They didn’t have time, and right now, he didn’t feel like it was his place to ask.

“Okay. I’m heading out. That computer should be connected to my phone, so I’m sure you can find a way to contact me if you need to. Clothes, probably some form of disguise, paste. Some snacks for you. Anything else?” He was nervous to be gone so long, that was for sure.

Zim sighed at the initial question if it would be too dangerous to infiltrate his own base. It would certainly be dangerous. That was without question. He leaned closer to the screen zooming in on the equipment to determine how useful it could really be in the long run. He glanced at his mate as he put on his clothing, the t-shirt and coat making him look more like the Dib he was used to, which was surprisingly comforting.

The Irken gave a shrug and replied as Dib crouched next to him, “I think that once we get what we can from the Dib house it might be worth... reassessing if it is actually worth the risk. If we can get enough to defend ourselves while I piece together a ship, it might be worth it to avoid my base altogether.  The less they know of our movements the better. And they would certainly know Zim is with Dib if we go there.”

When his mate said that it was time for him to leave, Zim took a deep breath as he rationalized the necessity of the human leaving. He set the computer down on the floor next to him turned fully to the human, lifting both of his hands to cup his mate’s jaw, “Dib needs to be safe. Be smart. Be vigilant. Do not let your guard down.”

He lifted his chin to press his lips against the human’s in a brief and possessive kiss. He let his hands linger for just a moment afterward, when he dropped them, he added, “Don’t take too long, please?”

Dib let out a startled noise when Zim kissed him, but leaned into it immediately, placing his hand on Zim’s, giving it a gentle squeeze as he stood up. “I’ll be as fast as I can, and don’t worry. I’ll be safe,” he said, grabbing his long rain jacket off of a hook on the back of the door and tugging it on, pulling the hood over his head. It sufficiently covered the scythe in his hair, which had become quite grown out and a little unruly.

Thankfully, the sunken look in his face and his hair covered would make him look different enough to be almost incomparable to his old self. He’d have never worn a rain jacket either, always opting for some form of leather trench and an umbrella when he could–specially to help protect Zim from the rain. He tugged on his boots. His changed body and complexion and hiding his hair would be enough to keep him safe if somehow they’d discovered Dib’s identity, but it made him extremely anxious about Zim being left alone at the apartment he had under his name.

“I’ll see you soon. Keep the door and the balcony locked, don’t answer the door, and stay away from the windows. Keep the lights down. I’ll be back shortly.” Knowing he didn’t have to warn the other, but needing to be sure, Dib stared at Zim as if burning the image of him into his mind—not that he needed to. Zim would always be there, behind his lids when he closed his eyes. He wanted to say something else as reassurance, but he wasn’t sure what, so instead he offered a simple nod and slipped out the door, locking it behind him.

He stood there for a moment, trying to settle himself and calm his breathing, before he headed to the elevator and out of the building. Make this quick, be inconspicuous. Did they need burner phones? No—that’d take too long. If he still had his communicator at his house, and any of his Irken equipment was undestroyed, they’d be able to get themselves out no problem. How they intended to get all of this stuff safely out of his father’s house and to another location was beyond him. It looked hopeless, but he knew he had to have faith in the both of them or they’d never pull through in one piece.

When Dib slipped out the door and shut it Zim looked around at the dingy room, finding it even less appealing now that he was alone in it. The silence without Dib here was almost deafening. It was not like he was unused to being alone, most of his life had been lived as a solitary creature. And in the past few years his solitude had been his only reprieve from misery. But now that he had Dib back, this isolation was its own form of torture.

He pulled the blanket a little tighter around him, making himself into a small ball on the floor and breathing deeply to catch the scent of his mate on the fabric. He remained that way for only a few minutes before he stood from his spot and began accessing his surroundings with a renewed determination in his eyes. He kept the lights off, but low lighting had never been a problem for him. He strode over to the small table and began rummaging through the junk cluttered on top. He found a half empty box of thumb tacks and went to work, covering the glass door and windows with one of the oversized blankets and a couple of dingy towels, taking care not to expose himself in the process.

Thunder rumbled ominously outside, and the invader had to take another moment to calm himself before attacking the task of sorting through what was available to them in the little apartment. It was not much. There were a few duffle bags in the closet, which looked like Dib had used to transport most of his stuff here. Zim set them on the bed and began sorting through the pile of dirty laundry, quickly choosing the most practical pieces of the perpetually grunge-goth wardrobe available for his boyfriend and stashing them away, they could worry about cleaning them later. When he was done with Dib’s clothes and some personal items such as a half a carton of smokes, toothbrush, deodorant and though he did it with disdain, any of the drugs which he found stashed in the apartment during his search, he was certain that anything that the human picked up for him would fit easily inside the same bag.

He turned back to the closet and dove in to see what else he could find. He grinned widely when he pulled out an old metal baseball bat. He had been knocked upside the head with this very bat on several occasions and knew that in the hands of his human, it could be a rather effective weapon. That joined the bags on the bed along with a couple fairly nice butcher’s knives from the kitchen. He gathered up all of the cords in the house, not knowing if he may need the wires to adjust some equipment.

It took about forty-five minutes to gather up anything that could be of use to them from the entire apartment, including the time he spent preparing a few of the bottles of alcohol into easy access Molotov cocktails. It was not much. But it was a start.

They were still left with two completely empty bags, which they could use to ransack the Dib-house. Zim stepped back to look at the pile and nodded once in satisfaction. They would be able to leave as soon as Dib got back. The Irken took a moment, going over to one of the windows and peaking outside cautiously. The rain was still downpouring outside. It was unfortunate for his sensitive skin, but he would have paste and clothes soon, and it would be far better to cover their movements.

Zim made his way back to the computer and sat down, now unsure what to do with himself. He grabbed the bag of candy and found a handful of stale candy corns which he popped into his mouth. The sugar was wonderful but eating anything while so worried about his mate’s whereabouts made his stomach feel sour. Regardless, he ate a few more pieces knowing that he needed his strength.

He plugged himself into the computer again and began taking a look at his PAK memory. The humans that had taken him had tried to tap into it on one of the occasions they had removed the device and there were traces of the computer system stored in his firewalls. It took a fair few minutes to infiltrate the system undetected. A few more minutes gave him access to his own files. He needed to know what they knew of him and if they knew anything about Dib.

He clicked into the files and his own face looking downright murderous greeted him. They had chronological documentation of the exhaustive list of experiments performed on him throughout the years as well as their findings and a profile on him. He opened the profile and scanned it and very nearly whooped in joy as he read one line in particular:

[KNOWN ALLIES]: None.

He browsed some more, not wanting to spend a great deal of time in the system for fear of being detected.  But one more thing did catch his eye.

[INVENTORY]

His heart pounded in his chest as he clicked to look at the list. The names of the devices were all wrong, but the pictures in the cataloging let him know exactly what was there, including his Voot. He quickly backed out and instead began looking at the security and whereabouts of the base. He scrambled once again to the table, this time finding a sketchbook with a fair few blank pages and a pen which worked after a few attempts. He began filling the pages up with ideas for a plan which he knew with absolute certainty, Dib was not going to approve of.

It took Dib much longer than he wanted to in order to find and purchase everything they needed. After the 40-minute mark, and he still hadn’t even begun his walk home, he could hardly focus on anything except Zim alone in his apartment. Of the items, he had some simple clothes for Zim more his size—a simple black turtleneck and pants, including his own rain jacket and waterproof boots, gloves, and of course the paste. There were also some snacks that Zim could eat, plus a few of his own. A couple bottles of beer, one he chugged on the way back.

Once he arrived back at the apartment, his heart was racing in his chest and thrumming behind his ears—he’d smoked almost half a pack of cigarettes on the walk back alone, chain smoking, and damp from the rain. He took the elevator, knowing logically it was faster than the stairs, but he couldn’t stand still and regretted it the entire ride up, tapping his foot on the floor and feeling a chill from the damp. He was shaking, from the nerves, the weather, and now the lack of drugs in his system, spurred on by the taste of alcohol on his tongue.

Dib unlocked the door with an unsteady hand, blinking when he saw it was almost back, but his eyes adjusted quickly. It wasn’t like he often turned the lights on, anyhow. Once he saw Zim, sitting at the table now amongst his crap, light from the hallway flooding the room, relief flooded him like a wave, although his anxieties weren’t close to gone. He did, however, appreciate Zim’s covering of the windows and balcony doors, the now blank computer monitor casting a dark glow around where it sat on the floor. Zim looked almost creepy hunched over the table in the darkness. He took a shaky breath and walked further in, noting the bags sitting on the bed. “I’m back. Looks like you’ve got us all set up,” he said with a forced chuckle, still trying to calm himself.

Shit, Dib, stop shaking.

He gently placed a hand on Zim’s shoulder, unable to really see what he was writing, but not wanting to startle him. He knew Zim’s planning tended to get a little extravagant and all over the place—while his plans usually worked without Dib to foil them, he was concerned that whatever Zim was planning might be too exuberant to succeed. However, he didn’t want to rub his nose in it and opted to say nothing on the subject. Placing the bags of his purchases next to Zim, Dib anxiously began rummaging through the duffel bags to see what was included, filling the room with some sort of noise. “There are some clothes and snacks in there for you. Hopefully the clothes are alright—paste too—to keep you well protected from the rain.” He couldn’t be still for too long. He lit another smoke, the taste of it making him nauseous.

He knew he should be focusing on whatever this was Zim was trying to put together, on their plan to infiltrate his father’s house, on anything to do with what they needed to do to get out of here alive, but he couldn’t seem to focus at all on anything. He felt overwhelmed by the idea of all of this, by Zim’s return, and the faults of his own gigantic, idiot brain. They were finally safe and together, and instead of fleeing the country to live somewhere off the land and off the grid, changing their names, they were going to break into his father’s house and potentially Zim’s base, which they were very likely monitoring? He had the sudden urge to throw up, and racing into the bathroom, he did just that.

Zim looked up from what he was doing, his antenna twitching at the sound of keys in the lock. His body tensed, anticipating that it would be Dib but preparing for it not to be. He let out an audible sigh of relief when it was his human who stepped through the door. At the sight he allowed himself to turn back to the schematics he was drawing.

The Irken glanced up briefly when Dib’s hand squeezed his shoulder. He was unsure of how to break the news of his new plan to the human…  so instead he stood and begin rummaging through the couple bags of clothes which the human had gathered for him while Dib looked into the rucksacks and Zim gave his mate a soft hum of appreciation. There was a lot of black. Which was practical. Not the usual bright colors that he preferred, but it was better to not stand out.

He pulled on an outfit, appreciating the fit of the slim black pants and a form fitting turtleneck sweater. He was examining the gloves, sorting through how to make the five fingered mittens work for him. He paused for a moment in his inspection as Dib suddenly beelined for the bathroom.

Zim quickly followed him and held Dib’s hair back as he emptied the contents of his stomach, which seemed to just be alcohol.  He traced the back of Dib’s neck with his fingers, hoping the cool skin would help with his nausea.  He did not have to ask to know that anxiety had a lot to do with the sudden sickness, the smell of it was practically rolling off the human in waves.

He did not want to be the cause of so much stress to his mate, especially knowing that this time yesterday, before Zim had come crashing back into his life and turning it upside down, he was ready for his life to end. He fully intended on making it up to Dib, he would show him the whole of the universe. Take him away from all of the humans that never let him feel like he belonged.

“I found my Voot.” he said quietly as he continued to stroke the boy’s neck gently. He chewed on his bottom lip for a beat before adding, “And I think I figured out how to get it back.”

Dib hacked into the toilet for a few excruciatingly long minutes, before he leaned against Zim with a groan. He unwrapped the partially bloody hand cloth from around his hand, his knuckles now having clotted over enough not to split whenever he clenched his fingers and used a clean corner to wipe the edges of his mouth. After a few deep breaths, he nodded curtly against the Irken. The hands on the back of his neck and in his hair did feel nice. In general, it was just more soothing to be around Zim, especially in contact with him, rather than separated, considering their current predicament.

“Where’s your Voot?” Dib asked, glancing up at Zim with an expression of ‘I could be sick again any moment’ on his face, before he caught his breath again and continued, “and how do we plan on getting it back? I didn’t see it in the video feed of your base. Wouldn’t that be one of the first things they’d have—” he didn’t need to finish the thought. His eyes widened suddenly in understanding of what Zim intended to do, not needing him to explain. Oh, hell no, he thought, before suddenly feeling nauseous again and leaning back over the toilet bowl and vomiting a second time, this time puking up nothing but bile. He needed to eat something, but the idea of food just made him feel worse. He’d spent way too many evenings hugging this toilet bowl for dear life.

After a few moments of gagging, Dib wiped his mouth again, coughed, and shook his head roughly. “No way,” he snapped defiantly, knowing he’d feel dizzy the moment he tried to stand and trying to calm his breathing enough to settle his stomach. This new development was not helping. “’I think’ is not enough to risk that. Are you crazy?” Of course he was, it was Zim for Christ’s sake.

He wanted to scream at the Irken for thinking up such a stupid idea when the one they currently had was dangerous enough. They were putting themselves right in the line of fire if that’s what he’d intended on doing, and Dib was not interested. Slowly, and using Zim and the counter for support, Dib stood, still shaking his head. “You’re gonna give me a conniption,” he muttered under his breath, only half joking.

Zim had only offered a guilty smile at his lover when he was asked where the Voot actually was. He did not have to elaborate as understanding suddenly lit up the boy’s eyes before he was vomiting once again. Zim resumed petting the human’s neck for the few moments he gagged, his brow furrowed in concern.

Concern quickly turned to frustration when Dib tried to shut down his plan without even listening to it. When Dib was standing again Zim straightened his own legs and crossed his arms defiantly. “Not worth the risk? It is my Voot, Stinky.”

After just a moment he realized that the petulant body language was not likely to sway Dib in his favor on this one. He unfolded his arms, and instead reached out to place his hands on the human’s hips, smiling sweetly up at him, “It will be fine. I have the positions of their cameras, guard rotations, shift changes, the layout of the base. My Voot is in the Southernmost hanger. We can even avoid most of the base.”

Zim slipped his hands under the fabric of Dib’s shirt, letting his claws drag lightly on the small of his mate’s back, “We get in, get the cruiser, get out and then I can take you anywhere in the universe. Just you and me. It will work, Dib.”

Dib immediately arched his back into Zim’s touch, letting out a soft hum as he slipped his arms around Zim as well, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. He almost didn’t hear anything Zim said prior. Travelling the universe with his lover in the Voot sounded like an absolute dream—having Zim whenever and wherever he wanted, no fear, no hiding, and no sleuthing—

But it was just a dream.

Logically, he knew that this plan was too dangerous. They’d have a better chance if they avoided Zim’s kidnappers altogether. He didn’t even know who these people were that took him, and what sort of resources they had. To top it off, they managed to keep him there for six years experimenting on him and prying out any and all information they could. It just wasn’t worth it.

Dib pulled back, taking Zim’s arms from around him and clutching his hands tightly in his own. “Zim, I need you to please understand. That is such a dangerous idea. I want, more than anything, to travel the universe with you. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. But we can’t do that. You know how dangerous it is. I can’t risk losing you again, Zim, I just can’t,” he muttered, raising one hand to caress Zim’s jaw. “We’re prepared for our original plan. We can find another way off the planet, especially if there’s any of the Takship left in my garage. God, I’m nervous enough about going to your base, nevermind directly into the hands of your captors. It won’t be fine. I can’t lose you again. I can’t.”

He couldn’t bear the thought of waking up another day without Zim next to him. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing him all over again. “I’m sorry, Zim, but no.”

The way that Dib reacted to his touch, the soft hum, and the kiss to his forehead made him believe for just a moment that Dib had decided to go along with his scheme to commandeer his ship. The sweet smile shifted to a full-fledged pout as the human took his hands and tried to implore him against the plan. Which was a good plan.

He lifted his chin when prompted with the hand on his jaw. Dib’s eyes were pleading and kind and the look that Zim gave him in return was flat and irritated.  He understood the trepidation, he understood the need for caution. But this was not one of the most extreme things he OR Dib had ever done. This is the boy that allowed himself to be launched into space in a pieced together garbage capsule, only to proceed to pilot a planet sized ship. Dib had once taken control of The Massive.

But this one was too risky, too dangerous.

Zim pulled away, walking to the table, where he then proceeded to grab the sketchbook and bring it back over to his mate, “Dib, be reasonable. Just look at what I have planned. Really, this is not the most dangerous thing we have ever done. I have it sorted out. We can do this.”

“Zim,” Dib begged as his boyfriend pulled away, shoving his now useless hands into his pockets, watching with concern as the Irken brought over the sketchbook. So that’s what he was doing when Dib got home. With a sigh, he removed a hand from a pocket and gently took the sketchbook from Zim’s hands to look at it.

Truthfully? It was a well-thought-out plan. It was a good plan. If this were any other circumstance, Dib might even say that their chances of survival–of fighting their way through, of getting the Voot, and getting their asses off of this planet–was pretty high. However, these were not normal circumstances, and Dib couldn’t rationalize allowing this plan to go through.

“Zim, I am begging you. We may have done more dangerous things before, but those rarely involved other people. Definitely not–what, government? –agents, or whoever, who managed to kidnap you and keep you locked up for six years. These people clearly know their shit. They have strength in numbers. They have my father on their side. They know your weaknesses. Whoever they are, they are not fucking around. If this is the only source of transportation you have, and they have it there, they could even be expecting you to go looking for it. They could be ready and waiting for us. I really think we should go with the original plan–they don’t know about me and that you came to me.

The idea of someone else, especially someone in power, believing in aliens would have been a dream to him as a child. Today, it made him want to grab his lover, run into a cave in the woods, and live off the land to keep Zim hidden and all to himself.

After his blabbering, Dib finally looked away from the plans and schematics Zim had drawn up, turning his eyes to Zim. His own expression was soft but seeing the strain and frustration in his lover’s eyes, along with so much assuredness and determination, almost made Dib change his mind. Almost.

“I’m sorry, Zim, but we can’t go through with this. We just can’t.”

He listened to Dib speak, antenna twitching in irritation. All of Dib’s logic did nothing to sway him from thinking that this was their best plan. There was a moment when he thought Dib was about to break, but he stuck with his determined refusal to even consider the plan to get his Voot.

The Irken snatched the sketchbook back from the human. Zim glared at the book for a few seconds before he walked away, tossing it back onto the table with a huff.

“Fine.” The word was said with more bitterness behind it than anything else Zim had said, including when he was berating his mate for his drug use. He strode ever to the bags that were left for him again, picking them up and taking them over to the duffle bag. There were a few other pairs of pants and sweaters which were folded aggressively and shoved into the bag with Dib’s clothes already in it. Zim’s disappointment was obvious and almost palpable.

While he begrudgingly agreed to drop the subject, the idea did not leave his mind.  His brain continued to churn, figuring out the best way to accomplish it. The Irken pulled on some socks and the almost cute combat-esque boots he had been given, completely unsurprised that the human remembered every single one of his sizes. He also shrugged on the slightly oversized leather coat and a scarf, knowing that regardless of Dib not agreeing with him, they still needed to be prepared to leave at a moment’s notice.

“We are going to have to… commandeer a vehicle tonight to take to your father’s.” He did not look at the human, instead he sat himself down on the bed with his head in his hands, “Dib-mate, check the roads between here and there on your phone. I do not want to get trapped in traffic in a stolen vehicle. We need to have a solid route planned.”

Dib huffed insolently at Zim’s bitterness and annoyance with him, but he knew he had made the right decision. They just could not go through with Zim’s plan. He couldn’t think of a single scenario where they both made it out alive. He’d throw himself in the line of fire a thousand times and take his own life a thousand more if it meant that Zim survived and got off this planet. He knew he’d die for him–hell, he almost did this morning–but walking right into their hands severely lessened Zim’s chances, too. Now that he knew where Zim had been the last six years, the thought of returning there made him almost as sick to his stomach as when he arrived back at the apartment, but he didn’t have anything to vomit up this time. He wasn’t taking the risk, and he wasn’t going to allow Zim to, either.

Dib watched as Zim got himself dressed and rifled through their stuff, practically dripping in sourness. He wanted to say something, to sooth him, to reassure him, anything, but he didn’t have any words. “I’m sorry,” was all he could muster, and he knew Zim wouldn’t acknowledge such a pathetic response right now as even being worth his time.

Tugging his phone out of his pocket, Dib began checking traffic notices and Google Maps, lining themselves the safest and fastest route to his father’s house. Luckily, just off the highway, there was a winding side road that took them around back of his old place, detouring the main roads. It’d normally be a little longer of a drive, but he assumed because of the weather people would avoid its twists and turns, and he’d never seen police cars out that way before—he could get away with a little bit of speeding. The idea of stealing a car gave Dib a bit of a rush. He was a good driver—he’d gotten his license just before Zim left, and he’d piloted ships before, so driving on the ground had always been easy for him.

“Alright, I’ve got a really good route for us. I’m sure we can snake a vehicle from off the street nearby. We’d want to avoid the cars in the parking lot—too visible from the entire building.” Slowly and cautiously, Dib made his way over to Zim, sitting down next to him and running a hand anxiously through his hair. With careful consideration, Dib reached forward and took one of Zim’s hands in his own. “I can’t risk losing you again. I can’t.”

After a moment of sitting with his forehead pressing into the palms of his hands the Irken let them fall into his lap and he stared at a blank stretch of wall opposite him. He merely nodded in understanding when Dib spoke and then sat next to him.

He only looked at the boy when Dib reached out and grabbed his hand. He wanted to scoff and reiterate that if they followed his plan, they would be fine. But the pleading look that Dib gave him stalled the words before they even took shape.

His boy was looking at him as if he were the most precious thing in the universe. He could see the sadness and pure heartbreak beneath the brilliant amber. The weight of years not knowing where he was, the pain of thinking Zim had left him. But in spite of all that, there was profound adoration. And worry.

He let out a heavy sigh and gave Dib’s hand a squeeze. After just a moment he climbed into Dib’s lap and wrapped the human’s arms around himself. He rested his chin on the boy’s forearm and replied, “I do not want to lose you either.  The longer we spend hiding the more chance there is that something will go wrong. I am just ready be done with this whole bullshit experience. I hate Earth and everything on it but you.”

When Zim looked into his eyes, it felt like the first time since last night that they really saw each other and understood each other. He had always found Zim’s eyes, natural and unobstructed by bad contacts, to be stunningly beautiful. They always took his breath away, especially when they got dark and needy just a little vicious. With a tingle down his spine, Dib let Zim climb into his lap, facing away from him, and he rested his own chin on the top of his lover’s head.

“I know, and so am I,” he replied quietly, leaning down and kissing Zim’s head and giving the alien in his arms a gentle squeeze. He was glad that finally Zim had given up that stupid idea, that they were here in each other’s arms and on the same page. They would follow their original plan, and everything would be okay. They would make it out of here together safely.

Zim was the most precious thing to him in the universe–in fact, Zim had become the only thing to him in the universe. Truly, Zim’s safety was all that ever mattered, now more than ever. They were finally reunited, and Dib wasn’t going to give that up. He was desperate for Zim to know and understand that.

“I love you,” he muttered, the words falling from his mouth before he could even think about stopping them.

“I’d die a hundred times over for you,” another small kiss to the top of Zim’s head.

“I’d give anything for you to never have to even think about that place again,” his mouth moved to the base of one of Zim’s velvety antennae.

“You’re everything to me.”

One of Dib’s arms untangled itself from Zim’s and made its way up, as if acting on its own accord, and gently stroked up and along the other antenna. Dib had always been fixated on the damn things–they were brilliantly soft, and the brief moments he had been allowed to touch them when they were younger elicited such breathtaking sounds from his lover. It was always brief, however, and Dib usually wound up getting a sharp shove or hard smack for touching without consent.

“I need you,” he breathed hotly against the ultra-sensitive feeler in his mouth, hoping that his saliva or the condensation wouldn’t be painful to the hyper-responsive appendage. They didn’t have time for this: Dib knew that, but the attention-starved boy still settled in his psyche only knew how to express his devotion through touch.

Zim settled into his spot in Dib’s lap, humming softly at the first kiss on his head. His mood was still a little sour, the idea of risking their lives for the potential of equipment seeming far stupider than risking their lives for a guarantee. But even today had shown him how unkind the years had been to Dib. He was not as strong, or brave or confident as he once was. And putting Dib into a situation where the risks were so high, not only would he be out of his league, but maybe even a liability.  

Zim knew that he could do it though. He had made it out of that facility from one of the bottom most levels. Once he was able to remove the equipment that shorted out his control of his PAK, the humans did not stand a chance against him. He could do it again. If he was doing it alone.

His thoughts were pulled from his introspection when he heard those three words spoken so softly. It was the first time that anyone, in all his years of life had ever told him that they loved him, or even anything close to it. Excluding Gir, but his robot slave had also said the same to a great number of things including but not limited to a taco, a cloud, and a wad of pre-chewed gum that he found on a bus seat.

He had opened his mouth to reply, but the words were lost as Dib’s lips caressed his antenna. His body stiffened, a chill so strong that it was borderline painful running down his spine as calloused fingers ran the length of the other feeler. Dib’s sweet nothings seemed to vibrate through him, rumbling deep into the core of his being.

His hands subconsciously dropped from Dib’s arm which still held onto him, his fists balling up tightly in the fabric of the human’s jeans. The Irken chirped loudly, his voice seemingly lost in the sensations coursing through him. He cooed the boy’s name as he gripped him, but the name was barely recognizable through the uncontained chitters streaming from his lips.

Dib hummed against the antenna in his mouth, smirking slightly at the tight grip on his clothing. He kept one hand tightly wrapped around Zim’s frame, the other still caressing one of the soft appendages. Dib understood in Earth creatures, antennae were literally used as feelers –but he had never once seen Zim use them in such a way–they seemed more so used to pick up vibrations in the air and amplify his hearing, perhaps other senses too? Zim had explained it to him once, years ago, annoyed and frustrated with Dib’s lack of understanding, and his memory had definitely waned.

Taking a large risk, Dib gently licked along the antenna in his mouth, leaning back just slightly to reach the almost paper-flat pointed tip, and very carefully tugging it between his teeth. He knew he shouldn’t bite down or create really any kind of pressure. It wasn’t Dib’s goal to hurt Zim by any means, but he absolutely adored the noises Zim made with every point of contact.

Carefully, Dib used his one free arm, the one wrapped around Zim, to tug him back into the bed, squirming backwards. It was difficult to do with a now half-limp mewling alien clinging onto him for dear life, with one hand, while shoving the God damn duffel bags off the bed. If they were endangering themselves by going to his father’s, and then to Zim’s base, and considering the likeliness of getting themselves killed, he was going to take some time to just be with Zim again.

He continued his gentle teasing of his boyfriend’s antenna, wishing, however, that he could see Zim’s face as he did–but his mouth could only be in one place at a time. With a slight pout and a hum, he finally released the one in his mouth, shifting and leaning just slightly to glance down at Zim’s face. He wanted to see that look as he continued massaging the other suede appendage with the tips of his fingers, wanted to feel and witness each sound, each squirm, and each shift in expression. He heard the fragments of his name on Zim’s tongue, and his grin widened. This may have been the first time he’d ever seen the alien speechless.

Zim seemed to have lost the ability to control his body. He practically melted against the human, his limbs feeling as though there was no longer any strength available to him other than his fists which were gripped so tightly that his knuckles were pale. The ability to articulate essentially anything other than pathetically desperate sounding mewling was stripped away from him entirely when Dib’s tongue traced the delicate curve of his antenna. When the human’s teeth made their gentle contact with him it send a wave coursing through him that felt like electricity and made his toes curl inside his boots.

He did not even truthfully notice that Dib had adjusted their position on the bed, even though he had been thoroughly jostled in the process.  

How much he could be affected by even the smallest of touches on his antenna had always been something in the past that he had not wanted Dib to be fully aware of.  He would choose to shut down contact of any kind with him, usually rather forcefully, whenever the boy got it into his head that they were playthings.  Which was quite a bit for a good stretch of time. He seemed to enjoy trying to touch Zim’s antenna as much, if not even more than trying to kiss him.  Far more resistance had been shown in regard to the feelers.

The intensity of sensation lessened considerably when Dib pulled his mouth away from the appendage. The feeling was still strong enough to leave him slack jawed and whining as he tilted his head back to rest it against the human’s.  

As much fun as Dib was having touching Zim’s spectacularly soft antennae, and especially watching the expression on Zim’s face—eyes half-lidded and glossy, mouth open, and mewling —he knew at some point he would have to let go. This was not the time: Zim’s reactions alone were enough to fill Dib’s core with a hot weight. Turning his head away again, being sure not to drop Zim suddenly onto his chest, he resumed the actions with his mouth. That seemed to draw the biggest response from his lover, and if he could make Zim squirm in pleasure, for only a few minutes before they head out, he would be satisfied.

Using his now free hand to slip up under Zim’s shirt now that they were settled in the bed, Dib let his thoughts roll. The Irken’s cool, smooth skin was now marred from the scars, but Dib only continued to see him as pristine and unbreakable. The heat in the pit of Dib’s stomach was soon replaced by rage at the thought of the last six years—if they were as ignorant as he was about the antennae as he was when he was a teenager, he could only imagine what those people did to him, and he let out an audible growl in response, mouth still wrapped around the feeler.

With a final lick to the appendage, he slowly let go of both, not wanting to shock him by the sudden lack of contact. As much as he enjoyed seeing Zim almost weak for once, writhing and chirping against him, but he had soured the mood for himself. “Doin’ okay down there?” Dib crooned quietly, still with a teasing smile in his voice, running the tips of his fingers along Zim’s chest under his shirt.

When Dib’s mouth made contact with his antenna again Zim practically squeaked at the sensation. His body tensed, and his knees drew up to chest in response to the pressure settling in his guts.  The growl that vibrated through him was low, possessive, and even angry. It made the Irken positively short circuit. For a few blissful seconds the weight of everything that was facing them melted away, the plans, the addictions, the dangers, and the trauma did not matter in the slightest. All that mattered in that moment was the human that held him.

Zim shuddered softly when Dib released his antenna, reality slowly coming back into focus. The boy’s hand on his chest was soothing, even if his body was hypersensitive and the lines traced by Dib’s fingertips felt like static on his skin.

At the question Zim released his grip on his mate’s jeans and brought up one of his hands under his own sweater to rest on top of the larger human hand. He let his head loll back onto Dib’s chest and looked up at him sweetly, all traces of his previous anger seemingly forgotten as he gave a nod. His other hand was lifted to cup the boy’s jaw. “I love you, Dib. I didn’t even know I could love until you showed me how. Everything in my life has been a lie, except you. I will make everything work, somehow.”

Dib almost purred when he heard Zim say the words ‘I love you’ back to him. Zim’s reactions gave him the utmost sense of joy and pleasure, and in response, he leaned town to kiss high on his lover’s cheekbone. “I feel the same way,” he murmured, simply holding Zim, now. He could listen to his boyfriend moan and watch him squirm all day, they didn’t have time—and he would much rather take this time to just hold him close, to be in his company, to squeeze the Irken in his arms and reassure him as much as possible.

The last six years—they were hell. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the horror that Zim had gone through wherever he was, especially at the hands of his own father. The years weren’t much kinder to Dib, although most of his trauma was self-inflicted. After Zim left, he spiraled. After attempting to attend university, and get a degree in astrophysics, to go on to become a famous scientist like his father, nothing seemed to matter. It wasn’t what he wanted to do, and he just didn’t have the energy anymore to keep trying and failing at cryptozoology. He’d never be a paranormal investigator if he didn’t want to investigate anything other than the body and mind of his green-skinned boyfriend.

He started taking narcotics early on in his degree and dropped out shortly after. Once he started purchasing cocaine, it was really all he needed on top of his already brewing alcohol abuse and self-hatred to send himself into a waking nightmare of addiction and apathy. He always wondered what it mattered if the only person he cared about in this God-forsaken universe had left him? His father never cared. Gaz never liked him much, either, and the rest of the world didn’t even see him. It was all a waste of time.

But now they were together again, and Dib held Zim tightly in his arms, gently stroking his chest, placing soft kisses on his face. They were gearing up for a serious risk, and all Dib wanted was to have him here in his arms for eternity. “How has your life been a lie?” He asked softly, placing more sweet kisses on any part of Zim’s face he could reach with the awkward angle. He didn’t know what Zim meant, and although he was feeling more than pleasantly comfortable, it seemed as though there was a serious discussion lurking beneath the Irken’s vows of love that needed to be considered.

Zim leaned his head back a bit further to give Dib better access to his face to plant those little adoring kisses onto his cheeks. As he rested against the human and was asked to elaborate what he meant his antenna laid flat in distress. The Irken addressed the ceiling when he did speak, “I am not a real invader.”

He moved his hand up further to be able to entwine his fingers into Dib’s hair, curling his index finger into the unruly locks for a sense of comfort. “The Tallest did not send Zim to Earth on a special mission. They purposely gave me a defective SIR, chose a random direction, and sent me that way, expecting me to… hoping for me to die in the darkness of space.”

The Irken breathed a heavy sigh, letting his hand fall away from the boy’s head to rest lamely on the mattress. “It was just chance that I wound up here. When I reported in from Earth, they just played along to keep me away from the Armada. And to laugh every time you ruined one of my plans. I was the laughingstock of the entire Empire.

“They even made an intergalactic holiday to celebrate the fact I was not around. There is probably a new holiday to celebrate my death on the day I turned off my distress signal.”  

Zim disentangled himself from Dib’s embrace, sitting up straight and wrapping his arms around his legs and resting his chin against his knees. “They told me the day we graduated hi Skool. I guess they got bored of their game. That is why I got so mad when you asked to cohabitate. Because I wanted to, and it proved everything that they said, that I am defective.”

Dib sat up once Zim pulled away, watching and listening to him speak. It broke his heart—everything really had been a lie, right from the start. He’d had no idea when he’d chosen the defective symbol rather than the Invader symbol as his tattoo, simply thinking that it suited him better.

“You turned off your distress signal?” Dib asked, scooching forward. He allowed Zim to sit in his curled-up position, but Dib sat behind him and wrapped his long arms back around the other, resting his chin on Zim’s shoulder and squeezing him. “I’m sorry, Zim. That’s awful,” he murmured, not sure what to say. The classic ‘I’m sorry’ response was not enough. He couldn’t imagine how difficult it was for Zim when he found out. They were kids when they were really fighting—at least, Dib was. He just assumed Zim was bad at it and he was amazing at stopping him.

Dib shook his head against Zim, giving him a tight squeeze. “Maybe according to their standards, you are. But you’re also the smartest and toughest person I’ve met—human or not.” Dib attempted to comfort the Irken, realizing that even now it was a sore spot for him. Years of thinking you were sent on a real mission, only to realize you’ve become a laughing stock? Hell, Dib lived with that for years too, but on a much smaller scale.

“I remember you were down the day we graduated. Dad made me dress up for the ceremony, and I tried to get you to, so I wouldn’t feel alone. You almost didn’t go. You were quiet and distracted through the entire thing, irritable whenever we spoke. I made a joke to you, I can’t remember what I said, about one of the jocks actually being smart enough to finish Skool. You didn’t laugh, but you smiled. I knew that day that I wanted to spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy. After the ceremony I decided I’d ask you to live with me,” Dib kissed Zim’s cheek again, now that he’d returned Zim to his rightful place in his grip. “We’ll prove them wrong together. I’ll go to the ends of the universe with you and burn it all down in a blaze of glory for you.” There’s gotta be a way to rewire that distress signal so it connected to his phone rather than the Armada.

Zim sat quietly as Dib spoke to him, trying to reassure and comfort him, the human’s dramatic vow brought an honest chuckle to his lips. He tilted his head to the side where it could rest against his mate’s cheek. “I don’t want to prove them wrong.”

He clicked his tongue thoughtfully before elaborating with a soft sigh, “Zim had a lot of time to think about what that meant. Being a defective. Being defective is what allows me to feel. Zim would just be another drone, if not defective. It is painful to be humiliated and to be hated. There is an emptiness in me that I don’t know how to fill, servitude to the Empire is all I had ever known. But those are my feelings to feel. And it is more than just pain.

“I have you… I have this. And you make me feel so many feelings that I do not even have societal constructs for or language to describe. Feelings so big they can be uncomfortable to feel. Concepts that are just beyond my realms of understanding. Those are my feelings to feel too, and Zim would not feel those things if I were what the Empire wanted me to be… I think defective is better.”

The Irken hummed softly at his own introspection and then he did give a smile, turning his head slightly toward his lover, “But burn down the entire universe, huh? I do like the vengeful genocidal look on you, Dib-mate. Very debonair.”

Dib let Zim rest against him, smiling softly against his cool skin. He was glad to hear that Zim wasn’t so torn up about the idea of being ‘defective’—he couldn’t imagine Zim as just some drone. Where’s the personality in that? Overall, Dib knew very little about Irken culture. Zim didn’t talk about it much, but it was clear that it was a very controlled society of extremely limited ideologies. There was a monarchical structure that overrode any sense of individuality; at least, that was the feeling Dib got. If that was the type of society Zim was from, he was glad it was over.

He did understand, however, the feeling of emptiness. As a child, he tried to fill that lack in love and affection with things and ideas and passions. Those things should have been strong enough to sustain him, but once Zim arrived on the scene, it took only a few years for him to realize that everything else didn’t really matter. They were just placeholders—and Dib never took the time to discover who he really was. He could take that next adventure with Zim now.

“Honestly, Zim, I feel nothing but blessed to be teaching you these things and feeling them with you. I actually think I even take a little pride in it,” Dib grinned a kiss to Zim’s cheek—all teeth. “I know you’re on the outs with your society and your people—it sounds so closed off—but there are things in your culture that are impossible to describe for me, too.” Words and phrases and ideas that Dib had read of Zim’s, in Irken, from the lab. Things he couldn’t even begin to contemplate because he simply didn’t have a replacement in his language. He couldn’t even begin to articulate a question about what it meant. “Can you teach me Irken? Properly? Once this is all over?”

Dib bellowed a laugh at Zim’s response to his ‘vow’. “Debonair is my middle name, space-boy. Full title: Dib Debonair Membrane: Vengeful Genocidal. Coming from the tiny psycho over here,” he gave Zim a tight squeeze and grinned again against him.

“Ah,” Dib sat up a little straighter, glancing out the window. The rain was starting to let up, and it was beginning to get mid-afternoon. “Do we want to wait until tonight to do this thing? Safety in darkness with our terrible human vision and all? Otherwise—we may want to move soon.” As much as he wanted to stay here with Zim in his arms all night, talking both honestly and cracking half-insulting jokes at one another, he knew how important it was that they get things started. However, he was hungry, and he was tired —Zim moved his stash, and that would be necessary to keep up his energy.

Zim furrowed his brow slightly in confusion and muttered in an amused tone that made it hard to tell if he was joking or not, “That is a strange middle name. Rather presumptuous of your parents, really.”

He could also easily hear that the rain had begun to shift from torrential downpour to a healthy drizzle. They would have less cover now and the sun was beginning to shine from behind the curtains. While he had clothes at this point, his skin was still vibrantly green and hard to conceal without proper technology.  He did not want to wait to put this part of the plan into motion, but logistically, it was likely for the best.

He exhaled sharply and let himself lean back against the human once again pulling himself out of the near fetal position that he was in, stretching his legs out more comfortably, “We should wait for cover. Staying still is making me anxious. But we should wait. There are only a few more hours until sundown.”

Zim paused for a few moments before adding, “I can teach you Irken. You know, in case you ever find yourself in a position that you need forty-two different ways to say snacks. Speaking of …”

The Irken extracted himself from Dib’s grip to crawl to the edge of the bed. He extended his arm as far as he could and managed to hook a finger around the handle of the grocery bag Dib had brought home with him. He scooted back into his previous position between Dib’s legs and opened the bag curiously. There were a fair few things which he had no interest in but one of several rather large sugar cookies with bright pink frosting did make his eyes widen in delight. Zim pulled one of them out, carefully ripping the plastic around it and musing, “Hmm ... I don’t know that you know this, Stinky. But these are my favorite.”

Dib watched in amusement as Zim ruffled through the bags, another wide grin splitting his face at the obvious excitement on Zim’s at the sight of the cookies. “They are the best, of course they’re your favourite. You have good taste,” he began, but continued with seriousness, “I think that’s for the best, especially if we’re stealing a car.” He picked up one of the duffle bags he had earlier kicked aside, lifting it up to sit on the bed next to them, and one-handedly rummaging through it himself.

This, and moments like these, were exactly what Dib was excited to get to after their escape. He didn’t want the stress and the drama and the running and the danger. He wanted to have these moments, eating snacks and cuddling on the bed, being ridiculous with each other, without fear that someone would kick down the door and split them apart, probably killing both of them in the process. With an unsteady breath, he tried to return the conversation back to its lighthearted tone.

“Are there actually forty-two different ways to say snacks?” Dib asked half-seriously, using his other hand to untangle from around Zim’s waist and snatch one of the cookies for himself, devouring half of it in a bite. It was slightly uncomfortable to have Zim’s PAK leaning into his chest, but he could feel the cool metal through his shirt and it was actually quite nice. As he continued to search for his substances in the duffel bag, he mused to himself in Zim’s native tongue—he hadn’t spoken the language in six years, and Zim was right. The things he would have liked to say, sweet nothings to croon at his boyfriend, he had no translation for.

One thing other than snacks that their language had a plethora of words, phrases, and idioms for was violence, and he snickered to himself as he attempted to mangle the language into something suitably sweet. He remembered one of John Donne’s poems from grade twelve English— ‘The Bait’. He doubted the translation would go over well—he needed to convert it to modern English then into Irken—but he made the attempt to quote the poem.

He shrugged when he finished, taking another large bite of the cookie in his hand and pulling out one of the pouches of white powder from the duffel bag, giving it a sharp shake to loosen the powder from the seam of the baggie. “Hm. That definitely wasn’t my best work. Should’ve realized you didn’t have a translation for ‘fish’,” he muttered, finishing off his cookie and wrapping his arm back around Zim’s waist.

Zim did not shove the cookie in his mouth like his mate had. He picked it apart thoughtfully with the tips of his claws, savoring each small bite. It had been longer than he wanted to admit since he had eaten, the humans that kept him had preferred to keep him sustained with an insulin drip and feeding tube in order to keep him restrained.  

He relaxed fully against his mate, listening to his attempt at Earth poetry in Irken, chuckling softly as he dropped out of Irken entirely to use the Earth word, ‘fish’ in his poem and allowed himself to be jostled about as he ate his cookie while Dib searched the duffle bags.

His amused demeanor shifted slightly when he saw the drugs, knowing that Dib was better than this. But he quickly dismissed his own anger, rationalizing the fact that Dib was doing exactly what he asked him to do and was not hiding it from him. There would be time for them to wean him. For now, functional was the most he could ask from his mate.

Zim swallowed the bit of cookie he had in his mouth and to distract himself from the white powder he focused on the boy’s poetry. “It was not a terrible attempt. Though, your articulation is too soft to sound like natural Irken. Almost like you are speaking German with a heavy French accent. Irken is abrasive where most Earth languages tend to be more melodic.”

He thought for a moment and added, “as for ‘enamored’, I would probably use ‘obsessed’ or ‘fealty’ as a translation. Fish is a little harder… we do not have a word for it really. However,” the Irken spoke a word in his natural tongue that sounded a bit like a guttural hiss - a sound he had never elaborated before but had used to describe the boy holding him on many occasions, “is a good replacement for any species that you don’t know the word for or don’t care to dignify. Technically it translates to ‘garbage’, but it is interchangeable in most situations with ‘not Irken’.”

“Hmm,” Dib muttered thoughtfully as he listened to Zim speak. He was right—the words Zim articulated were far rougher, and much more guttural than the sounds he had managed. He attempted to retry a few lines with the suggestions given and shook his head in self-disappointment. “I think it’s going to take a lot more practice. Reading and being fluent are definitely not the same thing. And, of course your word for ‘garbage’ translates to ‘not Irken’. I’m not surprised.”

He let the conversation hang there, for now, more than willing to let Zim continue if he were still interested, but he didn’t really have any questions to ask about Irken and felt a little too embarrassed to keep attempting to speak it. For the most part, although he’d heard Zim speaking it occasionally—usually to insult him —he’d mostly only read the language. He doubted he’d ever need to be fluent, especially now that they were no longer going to Irk. Besides, any Irken they did meet would have a translator, just the same as Zim. Even still, he wanted to keep the good parts of Irken culture alive for Zim, rather than shutting it out and causing the alien to think he had to be someone else.

Gently removing his arm again from Zim, he leaned back to dispel some of the powder on the back of his hand. “This is awkward with you watching,” he glanced anxiously at his lover. Dib knew he was disappointed about the addiction, but if he wanted to stay awake and focused, he needed to. He also couldn’t be starting withdrawals while they were trying to rewire a stolen vehicle and sneak into his father’s house. With a nervous breath and another cautious glance to his disapproving boyfriend, he quickly sniffed the powder and tilted his head back with a soft groan of relief.

Once finished, Dib placed the packet back into the duffel bag. Normally he’d chuck pouches around the apartment, but with Zim’s disdain toward the substance and the intrepid filthiness of the place, he didn’t want to submit Zim to more litter. He looked around—there wasn’t anything else he would want to keep once they left this place. “I’m excited to see space with you. And I mean, outside the galaxy. Not fighting. Not trying to defend Earth. Anywhere special you’d want to show me?”

The Irken elected to just let he boy take care of his addiction without saying anything to him about it. At the comment that it was awkward he hummed thoughtfully but kept his focus on the cookie in his hands. While he felt that it was far beyond time that Dib felt some discomfort about his substance use, he did not want to give him any reason that he would want to hide it from him and knew that berating him for it when he was doing as Zim asked of him would be just the thing to justify deception.  

When the deed was done and the plastic back in the duffle bag, he settled himself once again against the human. At the question about where he would want to show Dib, he craned his head back further to flash a smile at his mate.

“I want to show you everything, Dib.” he resumed picking apart his cookie and mused, “But there is a planet, Neibru, that is supposed to be the most haunted place in the universe. I do not put much stock in ghosts. Irkens are essentially glorified computer programs. There is not much room for spirituality. But maybe you can make me a believer. Either that or we will figure out the visions people have are actually, as I theorize, the product of swamp gasses, over active imaginations and a desire for it to be real. But we can have a picnic on a ghost planet and make a weekend of it. It will be a blast.”

It was extremely difficult for Dib to hide his excitement at the mention of Neibru, the ghost planet. He coughed slightly, covering his mouth to hide the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “That sounds like a lot of fun. I would really like that. As for everything, I’m looking forward to that, too.” He squeezed Zim to him, reaching forward to steal another cookie. His stomach had settled, now, and he was thankful for that.

“I definitely want to see Messier 81 and 82 in person rather than photographs. You know,” he diverted the topic just slightly, “it’s interesting to think about how humans think that the requirement for life is  water —we’re searching the galaxy for planets with water when we inevitably deplete all of our natural resources and overpopulate the planet, searching Jupiter and Saturn’s moons and theorizing their sea life will be so much larger than ours because of the pressure. Is the need for water only true then for ‘natural’ life? Because these days Irkens at least are mainly—grown? I don’t know. How do Irkens think life started? I think us humans are so egotistical we still think we’re the center of the universe, that nothing can exist outside our realm of understanding. So, like, ghosts,” he muttered, looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully as he munched on his cookie.

He didn’t realize right away that he was rambling, mainly speaking to himself. He continued, “I know you don’t believe in them, but I have such a hard time believing that even our neurological processes keeping us alive aren’t vibing with some weird-ass energy. That’s gotta go somewhere.” With a wave of his now-free hand, he glanced back to Zim, and his cheeks flushed. He hadn’t spoken about anything paranormal in years. “So, uh. Neibru would be great,” he added.

It was refreshing to hear Dib speak with unbridled enthusiasm about ghosts, life and the universe.  Zim had almost begun to wonder if that passion had been lost to the human. It gave him some hope that Dib would be back to his old self in good time but that same hope also gave him some guilt, knowing that he would never be the same person that Dib had fallen for. Most of who he had been was lost to him. He was no longer an invader, no longer a soldier. He could barely even call himself an Irken. He was not the amazing Zim, all he had to offer his mate was a failure who was nothing more than a cosmic joke.

He pondered for a few moments at the question of what Irkens believed. It was a big question. Articulating an answer was harder than he thought it would be. In the time he contemplated he had completely finished his cookie and he finally sat up straight, turning around to face the human and wrapped his legs around Dib’s waist.

“So,” he began dramatically, “Creation. First off, Irkens do not have any concept of God. As a whole, there is no room for Independent thought. Irkens think what they are programmed to think. It is accepted that during the burst of energy that created the foundations of the universe that the elements that are required for life were also created. These were pooled together in varying compositions throughout the universe and the introduction of electrical compounds began the processes of evolution that spurred life. It is random, it is chaos. It is all by chance.

“As far as Irken birth … The first Irkens were obsessed with survival through technological advancement. They believed that life was flawed, but that it could be perfected. They created artificial intelligence that reflected that perfection and maintained their consciousness indefinitely.  Those are the Control Brains. Irkens do not breed anymore, they do not mate anymore either. It is a taboo and considered a sign of being defective. Because there is a chance that the program can be corrupted if it is not diligently controlled.

“Smeets are created artificially through the use of the pools of DNA that are stored beneath the surface of Irk, which is all that remains of the organic structure of the original Irkens. As soon as a smeet is developed the PAK is secured to their spine and nervous system.   The program takes over from there. They are coded and report for duty. Any defective Irken is deleted. The organic piece is disposed of and the PAK is wiped and recoded. The Control Brains do not stand for any variance in the code.”

He did offer a small grin, “Though, apparently it is possible to be defective enough that the Control Brains are, uuuuuh…   unable to reprogram you. There are over forty schmillion errors in Zim’s code. The Control Brains tried to delete me but went completely insane trying to even process the data.” Irken looked almost wistful as he recalled, “They said Zim was the best Irken… They gave me control of The Massive for ten minutes.”

He physically shook his head to dispel the memory and added, “At the time I thought the whole existence evaluation was just a joke that Red and Pur were playing. But they really actually wanted me deleted. Which makes sense, I guess. Even if I thought I meant more to them... The Tallests before Red and Pur - Miyuki and Spork … I… killed both of them. So I guess I can see why the Tallests wanted me out of the way.” Zim raised his hands defensively and quickly added, “It was an accident, though. When I was working as a scientist on Irk…   before I became an Invader.”

Dib listened to Zim speak with a look of wonder on his face, wrapping both arms around as he shifted to sit in his lap facing him. The position was one of complete trust, and, especially for Zim, the concept was not lost on him. He held the other protectively as they spoke.

He had never heard, or even asked, about Zim’s past on Irk. Even up until today, he had no idea what Zim was even considered defective, had no idea that the idea of difference was so strongly fought against. So, hearing of Zim’s life before coming to Earth immediately filled him with regret that he didn’t ask far earlier. He’d fallen into that human egoism himself, hadn’t he?

“I had no idea,” he said when Zim brought up Miyuki and Spork, “You were a scientist? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised—you’re wicked fuckin’ smart,” he shrugged casually at the offered compliment. He didn’t give them out lightly, and in the past especially to Zim, but since they were being honest with each other here, he figured there was no point in being shy about how he really felt about Zim. They’d shared the ‘I love you’s, now.

“So, I guess now natural birth doesn’t happen at all on Irk? I don’t know how those Control Brains can possibly aim for perfection. There are always errors in code—in extreme cases like yours and I’m sure ones so small they’d go completely undetected. Perfection is impossible. Corruption can happen even if it is ‘diligently controlled’. God, I can’t even imagine a society where independent thought is so looked down upon. There’s no room for growth when you think you’ve got life and evolution down to a science. Sounds to me like Irken culture’s in a bit of a state of arrested development. Sounds a little terrifying, actually. I’d be interested in learning about other alien species’ ideologies, too—and more of yours. If you want to, that is.”

Dib couldn’t help but be thankful to actually hear about these things, and he felt a little bit ashamed that he had never asked before. He offered Zim a soft smile, leaning down to kiss him sweetly. “Thank you for sharing with me. You’re— fascinating,” he muttered, adjusting Zim in his lap and kissing him again. “It’s like getting to know you all over again. For real this time. I… like that.” Truthfully, Zim was very different than what he remembered. The last six years did a number on him–discovering his mission was a lie, the time spent being experimented on, by Dib’s own father, no less–although he missed the passion and ‘exuberance’ of the old Zim (he wasn’t disappointed by any means, he was glad to have the alien back in his arms), it was just different.

Zim smiled widely as he was kissed and shifted into a more comfortable and much closer position in his mate’s lap. He accepted the second, humming pleasantly at he savored the taste of sugar on Dib’s tongue and lips, quietly considering it a more pleasant experience than the taste of beer and smoke. When Dib pulled away from him the Irken flashed a smile that nearly held the vibrato of his former self and agreed, “I am rather fascinating, yes. And smart… particularly by Earth standards.”

He wrapped his arms around Dib’s shoulders, looking away innocently as he mumbled under his breath at a volume, he knew Dib would have no trouble hearing, “Not that the bar is set very high…”

The Irken gave a chuckle and then added, “But first stop will definitely be Messier 81. We will be able to get some better supplies there. And do some… touristy stuff.”

“Brat,” Dib laughed at Zim’s insult/joke, leaning down to bury his face, and the grin on it, in the crook of Zim’s neck. He tightened his hold on his–as Zim referred to them–mate.

“I s'pose Messier 81 isn’t far, comparatively,” he mumbled against Zim’s skin, pressing his mouth into the space just above his collarbone, offering a kiss and gentle nip. “What kind of touristy stuff do they have in other galaxies?” he asked, his voice soft. “God, I want to be like this forever.” Dib continued speaking against the Irken’s skin, breath warm, and holding Zim close.

He took a quick glance toward the covered window. The rain had stopped almost completely, and the last bit of light was coming through between the edge of the blanket Zim had hung. They probably had two hours, tops, before they had to leave. If that.

Sitting so closely to Zim, speaking with him such honestly and about the future made him feel warm. He pulled back from Zim’s neck and looked down at him, one hand raising up to slide his fingers along the Irken’s jaw and caressing his cheek. The look in Zim’s eyes, their proximity, still reeling slightly from the sounds he had caused earlier–it gave him goosebumps and made him tingly.  He tugged Zim up by the jaw and kissed him passionately.

Dib’s description of him may have been considered an insult to many people, but it merely brought a self-satisfied smirk to Zim’s face as his lover gripped him tightly. He knew for a fact that Dib loved when he was just a little bit of a brat. He had learned early on in their initial relationship that if he acted out, just a little, denied Dib what he wanted and insulted him just a bit he would get that adoring smile, the roll of the eyes and the boy would spit that word at him in a tone of voice far too endearing to ever truly be angry.

At the question about tourist traps Zim had given a soft shrug and began to reply as he tilted his head to the side to let Dib bite at his shoulder, “Trying new food, sightseeing, meeting the locals. Plus, you get to be an alien from now on which is fun in its own wa- “

As he spoke the human’s fingers grazed along his neck and up his cheek and the Irken let out a surprised sound when Dib cut off his sentence in that fervent kiss. Zim returned the affection with equal gusto, a soft purr escaping him, only to be muffled by Dib’s lips and tongue.  He adjusted the position of his hands to allow him to entwine his fingers in the boy’s unruly hair and after a few beats of the exchange he gave the locks a sharp tug that was not meant to truly hurt his mate, but it was enough to put a breath of distance between them. With a grin he playfully chastised, “Hey. I was talking, Earthworm. Rude.”

Zim leaned back in and gave one more measured kiss before pulling away with a laugh. “But seriously - one of the funnest things to do is to just mess with people. You could become a cryptid. Just imagine it for a moment, Stinky.” The Irken leaned back and as he chuckled mirthfully, he waved his hand in a dramatic flourish as if painting a scene. “We land on an alien planet with simple minded locals. They have never seen a human before, what with your repulsive ears and gigantic heads. You descended from our ship majestically - smoke wafts about you dramatically.”

The Irken donned a look of mock surprise, bringing both of his hands up to his face as if frightened, “But oh wait, you have been spotted by someone -” another dramatic flourish, “They run and tell the others what they saw, this strange creature in the forest. The story spreads throughout the town and becomes urban legend. We come back a couple of times and do the same bit to a few more people to solidify you in their culture.”

At this point Zim could barely contain his laughter from the notion, “Then fifty years from now some weird alien kid that believes in ‘Big Head’ has your silhouette tattooed on their bicep.”

At the tug of his hair, Dib let out a light gasp, before he looked down at Zim under his glasses, keeping his head tilted as he listened to Zim speak, even after he let go. He listened to Zim speak excitedly, at first with adoration and interest—fucking with the locals sounded like a blast— until it petered out into confusion and slight surprise, then into dismay.

“So, you’re telling me that all the cryptids I’ve had sightings of could have just been some alien fucking with Earth a little?” Dib shook his head in dismay, before a realization brightened his honey-hazel eyes. “Well, first of all, that still makes them cryptids by definition, and they’d at least be aliens — hey. Did you just call me simple-minded?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at Zim and giving him a gentle push on the shoulder. “And my head is not big.

“However. Fucking with some locals does sound like a lot of fun, and honestly, some alien kid having me tattooed on them would be seriously awesome. I’d be known across the universe,” Dib waved an arm in the air, grinning to himself. “I mean, if it came to that,” he said with an awkward laugh, dropping his arm back down. It was still odd for him to feel excited about these things again, when he hadn’t put any real weight in them in years. There was something about Zim that reignited passion. Maybe it was his own over-the-top personality, the little pokes and jibes, how they were constantly almost at war with one another, only to wind up in each other’s arms doing the exact same thing.

“I guess Irkens are too well known for that shit to fly for you, though, eh? Or is it just your galaxy? …Actually, what galaxy is Irk even in?”

Zim listened to Dib speak with a wide grin on his face. His cheeks actually began to hurt from it, it had been so long since he had smiled and laughed like this. When the human had finished speaking, he put a look of mock offense on his face before pouting and rubbing the spot where Dib had gently pushed him as if it were sore, “Dib! I am wounded. I did not call you simple minded. I said that we would find a planet of simple-minded people. You are the one that inferred the correlation. I would never insult my mate…”

The Irken brought a hand up to the side of Dib’s head and ruffled the boy’s hair, scratching his scalp lightly with his claws as his did so, “And your head is huge. Absolutely gigantic ...” Zim flashed a lopsided grin and traced the fingertips of his free hand down the human’s chest, coming to rest just above his navel. He raised a brow and added a bit suggestively with just the softest hints of a purr, “But now the rest of you is too.”

He gave a laugh at the soft blush that appeared on the boy’s cheeks as Zim openly ogled him. It was not something that he had really ever done before, choosing more often than not to insult him instead and perpetuate a dynamic of seemingly one-sided affection. But things were different now. There weren’t any reasons left for pretexts.

Zim chuckled once more before moving on, “Irk is in EGS-zs8-1, as you would know it. But I know it as The Hive. Every planet in the system is ruled by The Irken Empire. Most of the galaxies surrounding it too. It is four gigaparsecs from here. Irk itself… is not much to look at these days. Most of the planet’s surface was destroyed… by accident.”

Dib’s face had reddened exponentially at the comment, and he immediately looked away, attempting to stammer out a response. He didn’t succeed and rubbed his temples in response before turning back to Zim. That was not a topic he had given much thought to in the last six years, aside from fantasies including Zim that he would currently rather not discuss, especially now that the possibility of them was a reality.

Particularly one that always came back…

The depths of Zim’s lab, lit only slightly by those red and purpleish lights, backlighting Zim so all he could see was a silhouette and those deep, garnet eyes, dark and smirking—

The feeling of claws dragging down his chest—

A hand around his throat, head thudding back against a cold metal wall—

The low, possessive rumble from deep in Zim’s chest—

Dib licked his lips and tugged one between his teeth before he realized what he was doing and shook his head to knock himself out of the daydream. He leaned down to kiss his love on the jaw, cheeks still warm and flushed, attempting to distract the Irken from the expression that had just crossed. Continue the conversation, Dib, before you look like a crazy person.

“The Hive, huh? I suppose that makes sense for a race that’s attempting to, basically, control the universe. I can’t imagine how humans would react to Irk trying to take over. We’d probably self-destruct first. Humanity’s way: if we can’t destroy our attackers then we’ll destroy ourselves before they get the chance. That’s pretty far, though. I bet it took a really long time to get here.” He prayed that Zim hadn’t noticed his moment of weakness, as he knew the Irken would poke and prod at all of his sore spots whenever they were disclosed. It was a habit neither of them could break.

He glanced at the window. It was almost nightfall.

The way that his lover flushed and got lost in his own thoughts was not lost on the Irken. A far larger tell was the sudden smell of lust that rolled off of the boy. It was intoxicating in ways that he could not even describe. As Dib finished speaking Zim brought his hand up to cup the boy’s jaw, turning his head to the side to expose his neck.

“It took me six months to get here.” He licked along the human’s jugular with his segmented tongue to taste the salt and adrenaline. “But that was just from The Massive, of course. Also, my Voot does not have any kind of warp drive.”

Zim bit the exposed skin lightly, barely enough to leave a mark. When he released the bite he mused, “If The Armada came to Earth with the intention of sweeping the planet, humans would not have a chance to self-destruct. When The Tallest want something, they will get it. But that is not our problem anymore.”

He wanted to push the boy onto his back, attack him with bites and kisses. But the Irken glanced toward the door, the last rays of light were leaving the sky. Zim left one more bite before extracting himself from his mate’s lap. He straightened his jacket, pulling the hood over his head, making sure to cover his antenna and adjusted the scarf he wore to obscure a good portion of his face. Once covered he extended a slender green hand toward the human to help him up, “It is time to go, love.”

Dib let a soft moan escape him as Zim licked along his throat. The bite that followed sent a chill down his spine and settled heavily in his abdomen. God, what he would give to have Zim here again, but their timing was less than ideal.

He didn’t respond to Zim’s comment about Irk–not because he disagreed at all, but because he knew there were far more important matters to discuss. Forcing the arousal out of his system and those images out of his mind, he took Zim’s hand and followed suit, allowing the smaller Irken to help him stand. He adjusted his clothing, tugging his own hood up.

“You’re right. Put on the rain jacket too. It might start raining again while we’re out, and we can’t have you burning up. We’ll bring the paste with us,” he said, tugging a small pouch of cocaine from the duffel bag and slipping it into his pocket, casting Zim a nervous glance. “I’m gonna need to focus,” he explained, as if he thought he had to. Honestly, he needed to quit, but now was not the time.

Dib took a quick once-over of his messy studio apartment he had called home for the last six months. Time to say goodbye. “Do we have everything we need? Anything else?” he asked, not even bothering to grab his keys, but double checking that his wallet was in his pocket along with his smokes. “If not, let’s get this show rolling.”

Quickly, Dib grabbed Zim’s hand again, staring down at him. “I love you.”

Zim could feel nerves begin fluttering in his gut. They always did before he put a plan into action. Normally he would overcompensate with ego and self-assurance.  He did not feel self-assured at the moment. He felt afraid. But he was a big fan of the ‘fake it til you make it’ philosophy.  He craned his head upward to look at Dib as the boy gave him that declaration of love and returned it with what he hoped came across as a winning and reassuring smile.

“Don’t be scared, Stinky. I will protect you.” he reached up to cup the human’s jaw and cooed at his mate, “I love you. You are my everything.”

He dropped his hand and pulled away from the human, quickly setting about the task of donning the raincoat, which he was not fond of - it was overly large and hid his figure, but he said nothing, knowing that now was not the time for vanity. He loaded the computer equipment and empty bags into one of the rucksacks which he slung around himself.

The other duffle bag was slung around his mate and Zim handed him the baseball bat. Once he had the sharpest of the knives tucked into his boot, the Irken could see nothing else to stall any longer. He nodded his readiness to his mate at the door. As Dib slipped out of the apartment Zim glanced at the table and grabbed the sketchbook with his plans to infiltrate the human military base and stored it in his bag - just in case.

He kept his head down as they made their way through the apartment complex. Not wanting to risk being caught on any cameras that may be set up. He felt far better when they finally pushed open the door and stepped into the protective cover of night. Zim kept close to Dib’s side as they walked, their soles crunching loose gravel on the sidewalk - the noise of it almost deafening to him in the quiet stillness around them.

They walked about a mile away from Dib’s apartment, strained silence between them. Night had fully fallen around them when they came upon a poorly lit street. The Irken slowed, glancing around to ensure that there were no security cameras on the surrounding buildings and grabbed hold of Dib’s arm, adjusting their direction down the alley. He saw that there were several vehicles, one of which was an unmarked grey panel van.

“You are lookout.” he quietly mumbled up to his lover as he set to work. A small arm from his PAK snaked out of his jacket, just above his shoulder and made quick work of the primitive locking mechanism.  He opened the door to make sure he had properly disabled the alarm and breathed a sigh of relief when no harsh sirens filled the air. He glanced at his mate and gently commanded, “Get in.”

He took just a moment longer to switch the license plate for one that was attached to a truck parked just behind them. The Irken slipped into the passenger side of the van, closing the door behind him. He did not sit in the seat, however, instead he laid on his back on the floor and popped the electrical panel off of the driving shaft, his nimble fingers crossing the wires between Dib’s legs until the engine came to life.

Dib actually felt calmed at Zim’s declaration of protection—a reaction which surprised him more than he had expected. He didn’t say much of anything upon leaving the apartment and heading through the streets, and the silence hung heavy, even when Zim ordered for him to get into the vehicle. Thankfully, they didn’t run into anyone on their walk. The streets were oddly quiet, even for this time of night. It was normally a far busier area.

The vehicle spurring to life gave Dib a bit of a start after all of the silence that had almost suffocated them. He took a deep breath, cracking his neck and knuckles as Zim readjusted himself back into his seat.

He was a mess of nerves, but also excitement. They hadn’t done anything like this in years, and Dib had been—almost comatose since he quit university. Taking a deep breath, trying to settle himself, he shifted the (thankfully) standard vehicle into first to ease their way out of the alley, using his free hand to tug his phone out of his pocket, passing it off to Zim.

“You’re gonna have to be navigator. I should know the route well enough, but I’d rather have it open just in case,” he said, his voice quieter than it should have been. He just needed to get them off the main city streets. Although the traffic was strangely quiet, he still didn’t want them to be on the main drag. “And if you don’t feel comfortable sitting in the front with the windows, hop in the back of the van.”

Honestly, he wouldn’t have thought about the license plate if Zim weren’t here, so he was thankful for that as well. He swallowed thickly, one hand tight on the wheel and the other gripping the drive shaft—he couldn’t tell if his knuckles were white from the grip or from the addictions and lack of sunlight. The drive was longer than he wanted it to be, especially once they got off the highway, but it really was their safest bet. Thankfully, it was hard to see Zim’s green skin with the hood and scarf, and in the darkness, and Dib’s scythe-hair was covered by his own hood. They may have looked sketchy, but not exactly out of the ordinary.

Desperate for some noise outside of Zim’s gentle direction and the hum of the vehicle, Dib flicked on the radio. Best to keep an ear on the news anyhow—

“–authorities are also asking that civilians keep an eye out for an escapee from SCP Foundation headquarters. We have Carlos Centura, Tactical Response Officer, on the line with us today to tell us more about this threat. Officer?”

“Thanks, Jessie. We are asking that all civilians in the metropolitan area to stay indoors tonight. The escapee, dubbed SCP-4022-B is a highly skilled and extremely dangerous alien from a planet far outside of our galaxy. Should anyone be outdoors and spot this escapee—identifiable by its green skin, three-clawed fingers and toes, black antennae on the cranium replacing the ears, and large red eyes—please contact your local police immediately to have that information forwarded on to our Mobile Task Force Operatives. We are already mourning the deaths of twelve talented field agents and containment specialists killed during the alien’s escape. SCP-4022-B has been at large for approximately sixteen hours and is extremely volatile. We ask that you stay indoors until the breach has been contained. Should you spot anything fitting that description, contact your local authorities immediately.”

“We are so sorry for the loss. To reiterate: stay indoors unless absolutely necessary, and if you spot anything fitting that description, contact your local authorities as soon as possible. Thank you, Officer Centura. This has been Jessie Howard with the eight o’clock news. Thanks for tuning in, and—”

Dib flicked off the radio faster than he thought his hands could move, eyes wide in horror. “Fuck. “

Once he was sitting upright in the passenger seat of the van Zim had propped his feet casually on the dash and had taken the phone from Dib, giving him the directions set out on the boy’s map application.  He did not turn the GPS on, not wanting any kind of tracking on them, instead he just glanced at the street names.

It was almost novel for the first bit of their journey, looking at all the ways that these streets he knew so well had changed over the years. His nostalgia did not last long. When his mate flicked on the radio the Irken almost immediately tensed.

Before the broadcast had even finished Zim slipped out of the bucket seat and into the back of the van, sitting with his back pressed against Dib’s seat, not wanting to risk being spotted through the windows. The announcement filled him with anger that simmered deep in his chest. These humans added insult to all of the injuries they had caused.

They took away his name and gave him a number. They referred to him as ‘it’, as ‘the alien’. They painted him as a monster instead of a living, breathing, thinking being. He had killed those men and women, but he had done so only for self-preservation.   None of them could be held to a higher standard. Any one of those operatives would kill in an instant if it was their only chance to live. They would kill for far less. They did not bat an eye at the atrocities that he was put through in the name of innovation and science. He could not help but think it was a pity that he only killed twelve of them.

Zim dragged the duffle bag with the computer closer to him, pulling out the device and hooking into it again. The sound of his own computer booting up broke the silence that hung between the two fugitives now that the radio had been shut off. It did not take him long to hack into the surveillance systems around the city, he had done it many times before. The map he was presented with was far more useful than the one on his mate’s phone.

“Turn left. We will have to detour. There is a checkpoint set up two miles ahead on this road.” he spoke calmly, even though the rage and anxiety that burned in his guts. While he was filled with dread, he knew that he needed to keep his head. If he lost his cool there was no doubt in his mind that his high strung and drug addled lover would follow suit.

There was an almost poetic irony, knowing that just a decade ago this broadcast would have likely made his mate ‘whoop’ with glee. His nation had proclaimed openly that extraterrestrials are in fact real. And they were actively searching for Zim. Now, the very same news filled the boy with profound fear that was strong enough that the Irken could smell it rolling off of him.

“When we get to the house, back into the driveway. We can slip in through the back door. The garage should block the view of us going inside from any neighbors…” Zim chanced a glance away from the computer, turning his body to look at the human as they turned into Dib’s neighborhood, “Are you holding up alright up there, love?”

His voice remained steady, even though his body shook as he continued to navigate them through their old neighborhoods, avoiding the side streets that lead to his base as he noted a high concentration of military personnel in that particular area. He pulled up the video feeds from the Dib-house, examining them in a small window that allowed him to still keep an eye on the blockades. Thankfully, the house was still. It seemed that the professor had not come home yet.

Dib didn’t say anything in response to Zim’s direction, gnashing his teeth in the front seat as he swung the car just a little too fast down their detour. He tried to be calmer at the directions given after, but he couldn’t stop clenching and unclenching his hands on the steering wheel, and he very much needed some blow. It was a struggle not to pound down the gas and speed the rest of the way, but he didn’t want to draw any attention to them. Caution was a must.

Years ago, he would have been ecstatic at this development. Absolutely tickled that humans actually believed in aliens now and that they had managed to capture one—or two? Thinking on it, however, he may have more likely been jealous that it wasn’t him that caught Zim, and that it wasn’t him doing the experimenting. Maybe his feelings for the Irken had run deeper and longer than he thought, in a fucked-up kind of way.

Besides, he knew that Zim had endured there. Not fully, not all of the stories, but bits and pieces of the terror that he had actually gone through—a plethora of live experiments. True horror, it may have been a movie. He knew that anyone killed was out of self-defense. Hell, Dib would have done it too, and honestly, it made him angry on top of scared and nervous that his lover, the one person in this world he trusted with everything, was being labelled as a ‘monster’.

Dib backed carefully into the driveway, attempting to take calming breaths, glancing back at Zim anxiously at the question. “Fine,” he almost-snapped, keeping his tone quiet and his answer short. He tugged the pouch of cocaine from his pocket and as quickly as he could manage without spilling any, dispensed of some on the back of his hand and inhaled it quickly, before he tucked the baggie back in his pocket and hopped quietly out of the vehicle, leaving the door slightly ajar as to not make any noise. Thankfully, he knew how to move silently and stealthily from all of those years of sneaking into Zim’s lab.

“Are you going to stay here and keep lookout? Those field agents do not fuck around. Too much power too low in the totem pole so I’m not sure it’s the best idea. We can hide inside if anyone comes to the street,” he vaguely remembered wanting to be one when he was a kid—move his way up to researcher, probably. This was the first time in years that he was glad about how his life turned out—protecting Zim rather than fighting him or threatening to reveal him. Now he was hiding the alien, the two officially on the run from one of his once-upon-a-time dreams, along with being recognized by The Swollen Eyeball Network and having Zim on the exact same sort of operating table his father had him on. He shook his head to get the thoughts out.

Gaz had moved out, he recalled, a couple years back. Maybe a year. The house should be empty if his father hadn’t returned home. Dib opened the back of the van, as quietly as he could, grabbing one of the duffle bags so that they could carry out any equipment they could find. “We’ll go from the basement up so that we can escape through a window if we have to. Dad will have cameras in the lab though, I’m sure of it, so we’ll have to disable those first, without being seen. We can’t have him knowing you were here—at least not right away.”

Dib’s voice was hardly a whisper—quieter than necessary, most likely, but he knew the Irken would have no trouble hearing him, and he didn’t want to take any unwarranted risks. Quickly, Dib made his way to the back door, tugging the spare key from under the mat and unlocking it. He didn’t want there to be any traces of fiddling with the locks, even though he was sure his dad wouldn’t notice either way.

A sudden realization settled in the pit of his stomach, making Dib instantly nauseous as he paused turning the lock. He turned to Zim, who had grabbed the other bag and followed him soundlessly to the back door, with narrowed brows and a strained expression. “We need to make this fast. I’m sure they think your first destination is going to be here, followed by Dad’s work. If he was the one—” he couldn’t finish the sentence, but swallowed thickly and continued, “they probably think you’re going to fulfill a vendetta. With all of the activity in the area, I guarantee they’re trying to put up blockades and checkpoints surrounding the house, and they’re likely on their way here now. So. Haste,” he murmured, taking a deep breath and hurrying inside.

When his mate snapped back at him Zim scowled down at the computer screen. He understood that the boy was stressed and rightfully so. He could not even blame him for the aggression coming out at him. After all - they were in this position because of him. But he could not help but feel irritated by it. Particularly since he had only asked to try to reassure and calm his mate.

When asked if he was going to stay in the van the Irken merely shook his head and got to his feet, able to stand at his full height in the van without issue. He kept the computer out, monitoring the movements of the military worms as he grabbed the duffle bag that had held the computer and sketchbook and made his way to the back of the van, hopping out onto the pavement without a sound.

As Dib was unlocking the door Zim was already at work disabling the camera network inside the house. At his lover’s realization, one that had already occurred to him, he hissed softly, “Just shut up and move, Dib-beast.”

The Irken ignored the look of hurt on his mate’s face from the use of his cruelest of nicknames for him and pushed past the boy further into the house. The kitchen had changed very little since the last time he had been in it, which was funnily enough a time where the professor had made him a cup of hot chocolate and they had sat at the table together, waiting for Dib to get home and talked about science. It had almost been pleasant.  

He pushed the memory aside and walked toward the laboratory. His attention was pulled in several directions, monitoring military, checking for any alarms on his way down the stairs and ensuring that the security system stayed off. But he was too angry at Dib to swallow his pride and ask for any kind help. “Come on then. Let us get this over with so we can get out of here.”

When the pair had made it into the lab, a dark room with a myriad of technology strewn about it the Irken pointed at the side of the room opposite from where he was pointedly not looking at the human, “You start over there.”

He wasted no time in beginning to shift through equipment, trying to not make the disruption obvious.

Dib cringed visibly at the nickname, hesitating longer at the door than he should have. He tugged it closed quietly behind them, not answering Zim when he spoke next but following his directions with a sullen expression on his face, slipping off to one side of the lab and beginning to root through the equipment. He followed the same caution that Zim did not to disrupt or too obviously shift any of the items he touched. “I’m sorry,” he muttered after a few moments of anxious silence, knowing full-well it was Zim he was speaking to and the apology may not have any affect, “I didn’t mean to snap.”

The insult had hit him in every sore spot Dib had. It had always been the one insult that carried any weight, and while he didn’t say it often, it was always with the exact same venom that dripped from Zim’s tongue tonight. While the other nicknames had become casual, and maybe even cute if a little bratty, nothing matched the toxicity of that name. It made him feel like a monster, like he wasn’t even worthy to be in Zim’s presence. It was the last phrase he’d heard out of Zim’s mouth as he turned and walked away all those years ago. It was the nickname he’d used himself on his darkest days—how he thought of himself when he was a line from an overdose or marring his skin. Every sip of alcohol, stab of the tattoo gun, and fifteen-hour nap held that name like a ball and chain to everything he’d given up on and failed at.

After a short while of searching, Dib shook his head and made his way back toward the stairs. “There’s nothing in here,” he said, his voice just as quiet as when they were outside, but with a completely different tone. Instead of strained, he sounded defeated, both at the insult and the lack of supplies. “I might have more in my room that didn’t get thrown out.” It wasn’t surprising that they didn’t find anything here. He assumed anything Irken-related that could have been used to get them off the planet would have been discarded by his father after he destroyed it all those years ago. It would’ve had no use to the man.

Even while refusing to look at Zim himself, he hesitated at the bottom of the stairs. He wasn’t able to continue without Zim at his side, knowing their separation was dangerous. They were better off as a single unit. He could take the avoided eye contact and bitter tone if it meant he could hear Zim nearby and knew he was here and alive.

It took Zim longer than he wanted to in leaving the basement, and as expected he scooted over to double check Dib’s side, which caused him to roll his eyes, before he saw Zim approach out of his peripheral and made his way up the sets of stairs into the hallway that led to the bedroom. Dib ignored the photographs on the walls of him as a child, the image now only helping to make him feel sick. He anxiously checked his pocket to ensure he still had the small pouch as he entered into his room.

It sat exactly as he left it, causing him to tug his bottom lip into his teeth as daggers pierced his chest. The photos he had taken of the two of them—Zim in disguise, of course—had been ripped from the walls. He absently adjusted the baseball bat in his hand, wondering why his father hadn’t cleared out the room, and how the idiot didn’t put two and two together. He knew he didn’t have time for this, so he straightened up and gave his neck a crack as he did. If the room was untouched, there was some luck there would be some decent equipment in here.

Zim had merely grunted an acknowledgment at Dib’s quiet apology. This was not something that he would stay mad at the boy for - for very long. He even knew that he owed him an apology of his own. But at the moment he was more preoccupied with his task than he was with sentiment. Dib would forgive him, he always did.

Even before he had moved over to check the shelves and surfaces where Dib had been looking Zim knew that it was fruitless. Every movement brought further dismay. There was plenty of technology. None of it useful. These were nothing more than glorified kitchen appliances. If he were planning on making Dib an impressive quiche this would be the perfect place to rob. But he was no closer to getting his lover off of this planet.

There wasn’t even a single weapon.

He was able to find a rather nice travelling tool kit which he stored in the duffle bag, but other than that - it seemed as though the endeavor had been pointless.

Zim glanced up from his work to where the human stood forlornly by the staircase. The sadness in Dib’s voice as he echoed what Zim had already been thinking caused his spooch to ache miserably.  But he said nothing as he followed the human up the familiar staircase to what was once his bedroom. The Irken entered just behind the boy and the smell of the sudden and profound turmoil that his lover felt at the sight of his room hit him like being punched directly in the sinuses.

He took just a moment to check the feeds on the computer again before setting it down on the dresser beside him. Zim stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Dib’s waist, pressing his face into the middle of the boy’s back as he squeezed him firmly. “Zim was out of line. You did not deserve that. I am sorry.”

He knew that they were short on time, so the hug only lasted a matter of seconds before he released his hold and stepped past his mate into the room. It was a mess. Messier than it even typically was when Dib had resided here. Yet, even with the decorations torn from the walls and broken objects nearly everywhere… cleaner than the apartment.

Zim cocked his head to the side as he saw a glimpse of his own face staring up at him from the floor. He stooped down to pick up the photograph, smoothing the crumpled edges. He remembered that night well. Dib had taken months to convince him to go to prom. He had fought against it so hard. But the smile on Dib that seemed to stretch from ear to ear when Zim had shown up in that garish neon pink tux had made it worth dealing with the awkwardness of prolonged contact with their classmates. The two of them were posed in front of a poorly constructed backdrop of what was supposed to look like galactic swirls, Dib was smiling widely, his arms around Zim who looked - at best - mildly amused. Gold lettering across the top read ‘Under the Stars’. They had seen the theme as a hilarious irony at the time.

He smiled softly at the photo and slipped it into his bag before turning his attention back to Dib, giving him the same smile. “We shouldn’t leave these pictures here. Your father may not have made the connection, but I am sure that someone competent will. You look for whatever equipment you can find. I will try to de -Zim- ify your room.”

Zim had no doubt that Dib would carry out the request without question, so he set to work gathering up any of the small traces of his existence that were left crumpled and discarded among the wreckage Dib had left. He had not realized until now how often Dib had taken pictures of him. But the boy had almost always had his camera with him. And while he may not have admitted it out loud, Zim was glad that they had come here. If nothing else, for these memories of them. There was scarcely a picture to be found where his mate was not smiling. The pictures would very well be all they had left to them to remind them of the life they had on Earth. Of their beginnings. Of how hatred and bitterness had turned to love and devotion.

He worked quickly, but he was almost certain that he had gathered up everything that could incriminate Dib. The Irken made his way back to the dresser to check the status of their would-be pursuers. His stomach seemed to do a flip in his gut as he noted that they had moved… directly towards their current location. He had only taken his eyes off of the monitor for a few minutes, but nearly all of their escape routes by road had been blocked.

“We have company, Dib.” he said darkly as he shut the computer and stowed it away at lightning speed. He grabbed hold of the human’s hand, pulling him along as he ran through the house to the back door, and called over his shoulder as he moved, “The roads are blocked. We will not be able to take the van. I will get us out, but you have to trust me and do not let go of me. I will keep you safe.”

Dib instantly relaxed when he felt Zim’s arms around him, letting out a small sigh of relief at the tight hug. It was brief, but it was enough. Readying himself for the onslaught of memories, he set to work, smiling slightly at Zim’s decision to take all of the photographs. He knew that Zim was right—someone would put two and two together, but he knew Zim well enough that the majority of that decision was based in nostalgia, although the Irken would never admit it. He was feeling nostalgic himself, both over the photos and his old equipment, most of which he knew now to be useless.

Dib had stored a fair amount of his paranormal equipment back in here, and since the sliding door was closed, he knew it probably wasn’t touched by his moment of rage. It was a mess, but nothing was broken. He wasn’t sure what to take—there wasn’t anything really useful, just some cameras, some kitschy equipment that he thought worked on aliens, the sleeper cuffs…? He immediately tossed those back into the closet with a gross shiver.

There wasn’t anything of use to them in here, either. His paranormal equipment may have helped him if he were going up against Zim, but there was nothing here that would help them get off the planet. That was what they really needed. If they got caught in a fight with these guys, he would be better off with the baseball bat, unless he managed to get a hold of someone’s gun.

Going through his old equipment brought on a plethora of emotions, and even some of his old nostalgia for childhood. Even when he and Zim became friends, everything was so much simpler back then. They didn’t have the SCP Foundation on their tails, hunting them down like criminals. The memories seemed to flood him: the jokes about his gigantic head, sitting on the couch with Gir when he was sick and Zim went to Skool, their first kiss—

That was a memory he wanted to talk about, and he turned to Zim to speak when he was suddenly being snatched off the floor from his knees and dragged out of the house. “Oh Christ,” he said in response, moving as quickly as he could. “We didn’t check the garage,” he said in realization as he followed Zim to the back door. Taking the van was a bad idea, but he had no idea what Zim was planning.

“I won’t. I trust you,” Dib said, giving Zim an assured squeeze of his arm, his baseball bat still tight in his grip of the other hand. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

Zim had halted by the back door, peering at the tree line along the back-neighbor’s fence. As far as he knew, that was going to be their best bet. The operatives were closing in from the other direction. At Dib’s declaration of trust in him he flashed the boy a grin, his PAK legs slipping out from their confines. Zim did his best not to damage his disguise in the process but knew that the neck of his sweater would be stretched beyond much use after this.

He was suddenly level with the human and wrapped his arms beneath Dib’s, pressing him close to his chest. Zim was far stronger than his lithe frame would suggest, and he had no issue lifting the human from the floor. He wanted to reassure Dib, to tell him that everything would be okay, that he loved him. But the sound of crunching gravel at the side of the house stopped the words before they could form and caused his heart to race, hammering in his chest rapidly.

Zim did took a deep breath to steady himself, his eyes narrowing. There were many things in his life that were a lie. His sense of self had been ripped away from him. But he had still been trained as an invader, an officer of the most elite army in the universe. He tightened his grip on his mate and shot forward, his PAK legs carrying them forward almost impossibly quick, Dib’s arms clinging to him for dear life.

Behind him he could hear a man shouting over a walkie:

“CONFIRMED SIGHTING. 4022-B AND A HUMAN HOSTAGE. HEADING SOUTH.”

The sound of rapid gunshots tore through the night, and Zim changed his direction quickly like a dragonfly in flight, veering away from the fire. He could not remember the last time he had moved this quickly. It was more difficult with the human in his arms, while Dib was not heavy, he was large and cumbersome, as were the bags that both of them were carrying. It took some effort to be able to adjust his equilibrium to compensate. But this was not Zim’s first time fleeing from an enemy and the presence of his mate made him all the more determined.  

The pair burst through the cover of houses, managing to get across the uncovered street just as a black vehicle tore around the corner, sporting a man operating a mounted gun. The Irken could hear bullets ricocheting off of the house he ducked behind, the projectiles hitting where his head had been just a moment before.

He moved with every ounce of speed and skill in his body, trying to put as much distance between them as possible.  When the pair lost the cover of houses they were met with a full-blown blockade. Zim had taken a chance, running full bore toward it, propelling himself and his mate into the air over the task force. He landed roughly on the other side, his PAK legs absorbing the shock and allowing him to launch them forward again with even greater momentum away from a spray of bullets.  

As he rushed forward, he could feel white hot pain radiating from his leg where a shot grazed him. He did not slow, instead pushing forward harder through the twisting neighborhood. Adrenaline and blood coursed through him so fiercely that he could not hear anything around him, only moving forward mattered. Before he knew it, they had moved from the city proper and Zim cleared the river surrounding the city in a single leap, landing on the opposite bank with a grunt of pain before rushing into the neighboring forest.

He changed direction several times in his flight, doing his utmost to minimize their tracks before he headed West. He did not slow, but when the sounds of the city had all but faded behind them, he asked with a shaking voice, “Are you okay, Dib?”

Dib squeezed Zim tightly as he was lifted off the ground with the spider legs and was actually shocked at how quick of a clip Zim could take them at while carrying him and the duffel bags. He wanted to speak, too, to apologize for everything he had ever done or had failed to do or never gotten the chance for, but instead he lowered his head and buried his face into Zim’s collar, squeezing his eyes tight as a bullet whizzed by, too close for comfort.

JesusChristJesusChristJesusChrist was the continuing chant in Dib’s head as Zim beelined out of there. He was blissfully unaware of all of the chaos, just hearing gunfire and shouting and noise as his eyes were squeezed shut tightly. He was almost enraged at being referred to as a hostage, as if he wouldn’t choose Zim a million times over to be with him the rest of his life. He wished he had a gun of his own, so he could shoot back, show them how much of a ‘hostage’ he really was.

Dib was shaking also when they finally were able to speak, and he lifted his head from Zim’s shoulder with a brisk nod. “Yeah, I’m okay—my ear is ringing,” he muttered, but didn’t let go of Zim to check if the bullet had gotten him, not that he could anyhow. Finally opening his eyes, he took a glance around the woods. He had an idea where they were—on the opposite side of the forest they should be able to make their way to the next town over in no time at the rate Zim was taking them. Those PAK legs were damn fast. No wonder he could hardly ever catch him as kids.

“What about you, are you okay?” He asked softly, looking around to any visible part of Zim’s body he could see from here, noting a dark dampness on Zim’s shoulder, and when he adjusted one arm to touch it, the tips of his fingers came away bright pink and wet. “You’re bleeding, does it hurt? We should stop soon,” Dib said, the worry clear in his voice as he rubbed the blood between his fingers as if it would make it disappear.

His anxieties came back full-force at the sight of the blood which caused his heart to race and the ringing in his ear to be almost deafening. He squeezed Zim tighter as they continued on their way, not realizing that his hair was now matted to his head for the same exact reason.

Zim kept his attention focused on weaving them between the thick forest, choosing to use the trees themselves to move them forward rather than risking leaving a trail on the ground. He could feel the keen sting of the wounds on his shoulder and leg, but when asked he answered back as calmly as possible, “Nowhere vital. It will heal. We cannot stop until we are somewhere safe. Zim will be okay.”

As he raced through the forest, he caught a whiff of bitter copper. He glanced down and saw a trickle of red blood dripping from his mate’s hairline. Zim gasped the boy’s name at the sight, sudden worry filling his chest. The thought of his own wounds was merely an inconvenience to him, but the thought that he had let Dib get hurt made him hate himself and his incompetence. Against his own advice the Irken halted, suspended in the trees, holding the boy that clung to him firmly with his legs to check the wound on him.

There was enough blood to dampen Dib’s hair, sticking the locks together like macabre hair product. But the would itself was very surface level. He would live. The Irken felt as though he were going to vomit when the realization that if the bullet had been even a single centimeter closer, Dib would not be alive. His voice was pleading, full of self-loathing as he nearly sobbed as if trying to convince both of them, “You are okay. It is not bad. Dib will be fine.”

He adjusted his grip and surged forward again, the need to get Dib where he could tend to his wounds igniting a new rush of adrenaline in him that allowed him to push away the tears that had begun to well up in his eyes. He did not know how much further he went, but Zim felt as if he had been running for hours, the overextended use of his PAK and the sheer force he was putting into the unruly flight was beginning to wear on him, physically and mentally. More than once he stumbled and had to quickly recover.

The forest had become so thick that his movements had to be slowed to navigate without running into trees. But salvation came in the form of a small clearing in the woods, a long-abandoned hunting cabin coming into sight. He came to a wavering stop, lowering his mate gently to the ground before collapsing against him in pure exhaustion.  

Dib only nodded in response to Zim’s reassurance. He did not feel reassured, and he did not feel comfortable about Zim bleeding all over the place—the thought filled him with dread that somehow, despite Zim’s PAK, his love would bleed out. However, at Zim’s own worry at his wounds, Dib was suddenly surprised, especially when they stopped in the trees, Zim holding him up awkwardly, and examining the damage. Was that why his ear was ringing so loudly? He didn’t realize he had been shot at all—he didn’t feel it.

Even still, with Zim worrying over his wounds, Dib didn’t feel the pain—he was only worried about Zim’s. He knew logically that his could have been worse, had the angle been slightly closer, but Zim had been shot twice and was acting like nothing happened. When they began moving again, he couldn’t help but notice the jagged pace they took from then on, the exhaustion and worry very clear from Zim’s body language and inability to keep steady. The last thing he wanted was for Zim to be worrying about him, when all Dib wanted was for his love to be safe and alive and off this godforsaken planet.

Dib was feeling lightheaded, and he desperately needed to do some blow. When they stopped, he was more than relieved. He caught Zim easily, his lithe frame fitting perfectly in his arms, even though he wasn’t sure he could keep himself steady. Knowing that he had to , that Zim’s life was on the line, Dib plucked the Irken up into his arms bridal-style, forcing himself to stay aware enough to walk in a mostly straight line to the door, getting them inside and the door closed, and Zim over to the couch, dropping the duffel bags on the floor on the way in, kicking the door closed behind them. He laid Zim on the dusty couch gently before he dropped to his knees on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, resting his forehead on Zim’s stomach.

He didn’t know how much he was bleeding, but he wanted so badly to sleep. He felt his pocket, before he perked up in a panic, turning all of his pockets inside out and realizing that fuck, he’d dropped the coke. Standing quickly, swaying as he moved and almost knocking over a probably burnt-out lamp, digging through the bags with blurred vision, only to become completely dismayed at the fact that double fuck, the rest was in the other bag. Groaning, and taking a deep breath, Dib hurried into the bathroom to collect some dry cloths that had been left, moving quickly and wobbly back to Zim to tend to his wounds.

“Don’t worry. We’re gonna—we’re g-gonna get out of here,” he muttered, adjusting Zim enough so that he could check the wound on his leg first—not so bad, before tending to his shoulder, which had bled heavily but was beginning to clot. “I love you,” he said, turning to Zim as he placed pressure onto the wound, “I love you. Y-you’re okay. I’m okay. It’s all going to be fine.” He realized he was only reiterating what Zim had said earlier, but he didn’t know what else to say, or how else to reassure him.

They found nothing. They were leaving the city with nothing. No gear, no way off Earth, and three bullet wounds between them. Few supplies, enough for a day or two tops. They had Dib’s image now, too, and had labelled him as a hostage. Even his father would be able to tell from photographs that it was his son. Dib was nothing but scared, but he needed Zim to know that he was here—no matter what. “I love you.” God, his head was pounding and he both wanted to sob and throw up, but he just didn’t have the energy. It was like in an instant, all of the adrenaline wore off just enough that the pain shot through his cranium like he had been shot again, causing him to press the heel of his palms into his eyes with a wince, pulling them away a few moments later, bloody.

It was the second time in twenty-four hours that he had to run for his life and also the second time he had collapsed and needed to be carried to safety by his mate. It made him feel pathetic.  A feeling that was even more profound when he looked up and could see the blood dripping from Dib’s hair. He had managed to get them out alive, but he had not kept Dib safe.

The Irken felt as though his body was made of lead when he was set down on the couch. He allowed his body to rest for just a moment as his companion rifled through the cabin and came back to him with rags. Zim forced himself to move as Dib approached the couch. He sat up and picked up another rag to check his lover’s wound as Dib checked his leg and shoulder. As his mate spoke his frantic reassurances Zim softly shushed at him and replied in an exhausted whisper, “I know, Dib. It will be okay. We will figure it out. I love you.”

When Dib winced and brought his hands up to his face, the motion seemed to make the Irken forget his own pains entirely. His eyes widened anxiously, and he pulled his lover onto the couch to rest, moving to put pressure on the wound with one rag, picking up a second in his other hand to help mop the blood from Dib’s brow.

When the human’s face was suitably clear, Zim prompted Dib to lean back onto the couch to rest, “Keep pressure on that, Dib. I am going to find something to patch you up with.”

He quickly stood, needing to use his PAK legs to support him as he moved with as much speed as he could manage. After several minutes he came back with a very bare kit. There was only half a bottle of isopropyl and a single wrap. Odds and ends like a few loose band aids kicked around in the bottom of the tin box. It was scant, but he was as thankful for anything. He had also found a dusty jug of water which he brought over with him.

Zim wasted no time in starting to clean Dib’s wound and using the solitary bandage for his mate, without a second thought to his own bleeding shoulder or leg. As he worked, he addressed the boy tiredly, “You should drink some water. Dehydration will only make this hurt worse.” With a soft chuckle at the state of them Zim added, “Well… That could have gone better.”

Dib let himself be moved onto the couch, struggling to see properly and keep steady—there hadn’t been two of Zim a minute ago—although he held the pressure to his head with the cloth, taking the water with his other hand and taking a large sip. “You’re wounded, too. I’ll be fine once the bleeding stops, but we should take care of yours,” he said, turning to Zim and shifting him slightly to reexamine the wound on his shoulder.

The bullets had just grazed the both of them. They really would be fine, albeit in a great deal of pain once all of the adrenaline wore off. They couldn’t stay here for long, that he knew, but they also couldn’t risk leaving until they were both feeling better—or at least able to walk. He didn’t want to admit it, but maybe it would have been best to break into the Federation… but on the same token, they had been very close to being killed out on the streets, their chances of death going into the Federation were much, much higher.

Dib carefully unzipped Zim’s sweater, tugging it down over his arms and draping it over the back of the couch to take a closer look, moving the collar of Zim’s shirt–loose enough to fit over the PAK it shifted nicely–he let go of his own head, so he could use both hands. It was pretty bad, if possible, he’d get Zim stitches, but that wasn’t an option. Instead, he fashioned a makeshift butterfly bandage, and with shaky fingers, using the sticky adhesive of the Band-Aids to pull the wound closed and using the wrap to close it off and keep it in place. “I think the one on your leg will be okay. Head wounds bleed a ton so I’m sure I’m fine,” he said, returning to place pressure on his scalp.

“It definitely could have gone a lot better,” Dib let out a weak laugh. He leaned his head back into the couch, staring up at the ceiling that was half-spinning, keeping one arm carefully around Zim to be close to him. “How long do you think we have before we have to take off?” he asked, his voice still hushed and shaky. He wanted to sleep very badly —it was going to be some kind of rude awakening when it sunk in properly that he had nothing left re: drugs, and he was not prepared for those kinds of withdrawals.

Sitting up straight again, Dib took another sip of water and turned to his lover, his heart breaking at the expression on his face. Hurt, regret, despair, exhaustion, and pain—with a soft sigh, he leaned forward and kissed Zim gently on the cheek before resting against him. “I’m sorry. I wish there was something we could do,” he said, with no inclination to believe that Zim had taken the sketchbook, not knowing that in the duffel bag he didn’t go scrounging for his drugs, there lay Zim’s plans. “I’m tired,” he murmured kissing Zim once more before he leaned back into the dusty furniture, eyes closed in strain and exhaustion. “I just—mm. Need sleep.”

Zim had begun to tell his mate not to fuss over his wounds, but his halfhearted argument petered out rather quickly and he simply allowed Dib to tend to his shoulder. It did not take long for the band aids to be placed and he knew that submitting to the act would help his mate feel better about the state the Irken had found himself in. Truthfully, his PAK would heal these wounds quickly enough. Even now the ache was not as bad as it had been.

He could not help but to pull into retrospection as Dib closed his wound. He had led them directly into a trap and got both of them hurt in the process. He did not know who he was kidding when he had promised he would keep Dib safe. It had been years since he had even been able to keep himself safe. He had failed to keep Gir safe, he had been caught and tortured himself, and now his mate lay bleeding from his head in a dilapidated shack in the forest after years of slowly killing himself. And all of it was Zim’s fault.

He was caught by surprise when Dib leaned down to kiss his cheek. After all that he put Dib through, the human still trusted him without question. While their situation was dire, he could see it in Dib’s tired eyes that the human still had faith that Zim would figure this out and get them out of here. He did not have the same faith in himself. At the moment he felt as though they were back at step one. His mate kissed him again, and he returned the affection just as gently and with just as much exhaustion.

“As soon as Zim can run, we will move again,” he said as the human leaned back against the couch. He brought a hand forward, resting it gently on the boy’s knee, which he gave a gentle squeeze. “Dib should sleep while he can.”

The Irken adjusted himself to be able to press a soft kiss against the human’s unshaved cheek before sliding off the couch and pulling the duffle bag with the computer in it towards him. It did not take him long to set up the computer and little antenna. While the connection was not fantastic, he was able to pull up the news, where unsurprisingly the lead story was him. Now at large, with a hostage.

Zim leaned back against the couch, listening to the report as he mulled over their options for escape.

Dib let out a pleased sound at the hand on his knee and the kiss to his cheek, raising a hand weakly to tug his glasses off, placing them on the arm of the couch next to him, and readjusting to make himself mostly comfortable. He listened to Zim move, a little displeased at not having Zim next to him but letting the other do what he needed, adjusting again to match so he could reach Zim’s shoulder, placing his hand on it with a weak squeeze, already beginning to drift off. “Okay,” he murmured, “wake me up when you’re ready to go.”

He couldn’t help but feel worried, holed up with Zim in a hunting shack, on the run from the SCP Foundation, labelled as a hostage, his love number one in everyone’s minds. He was sure the news had spread like wildfire, especially after they had been sighted, and almost killed in the process. He just wanted Zim safe, and they wouldn’t be until they were on the move again with a new plan in hand.

As Dib listened to the news on the computer, he attempted to crack an eye open to take a look and watch, but he was too tired. He had no energy left and had no idea how they planned to get out of this situation—but they had to. There was no other option. When Zim was better, he would wake him up and they would go again. Try again, and they would keep doing that until either they found a way off Earth or they died in the process. The future was bleak and their paths severely limited, but he knew they would succeed if they did it together. Hell, he’d call Gaz if he had to—even if Zim didn’t want him to. They would figure this out.

It didn’t take much longer for Dib to fall into a stressful state of sleep, probably more closely tied to unconsciousness. He had a vague thought that he hoped he didn’t have a concussion, and another sting of worry in his chest that almost forced him awake— Zim, don’t you dare —he thought perhaps he had vocalized this, but it all existed in the back of his mind. It was all just fear and worry coming to light as he drifted off and the world became silent, the voices of the radio fading to nothingness and comforted with Zim near him on the floor.

It was not long before he could hear that his mate’s breathing even out, the human finally giving into the sleep that he so desperately needed. The Irken did not allow himself the same reprieve.  One of them had to keep watch, and he would be able to manage without the sleep. It did take him a good twenty minutes to be able to lift his head from where it had rested on the couch. He focused once again on the little computer which was currently covering a candlelight vigil that had begun in honor of the fallen agents.

Zim scoffed once, thinking that these humans were stupid, they had been told not to leave their homes, so instead they gathered in mass in the city. If he had intended on killing them all, they would be making it very easy for him. More interesting to him than the vigil was the small protest that had broken out. It was mainly led by the UFO weirdos that had made a shrine for him all those years ago. But among them was a familiar red-headed boy.

He was not entirely surprised that Keef would be among those defending him, even if he had never been kind to the boy. That never seemed to matter to Keef though. The human had changed quite a bit in the last six years. He was tall, lean and clean cut. Among the protesters he was certainly the most presentable, he wore button-down shirt and slacks - a major contrast to the others who sported ratty t shirts with little green men and UFOs. Zim leaned a little closer to the screen to listen as he was interviewed.

 

[“It is my understanding that you claim to know the alien escapee, 4022-B. Can you enlighten us on how you came to know it?”]

[“First of all - he, not it. And his name is Zim, not 4022-B. He is a person. And he was my best friend. Pretty much the only friend I had in school.”]

[“And did you know that he was an extraterrestrial?”]

[“Well, no. Not at the time.”]

[“You claim that this was your best friend and yet you did not even know that he was from another planet?”]

Keef openly scoffed and gestured to the military presence around them.

[“Can you blame him for not saying anything? Look at what has happened to him! Zim is not a dangerous alien. He is a good person. These people want to see him dead just because he is different! But if they really knew Zim they would see him like I do. He is funny, he is smart, he is an artist. If you just gave him a chance you would see– “]

 

Zim groaned at the interview. While he mildly appreciated that Keef wanted to defend him, he cursed the boy under his breath for giving the humans more information on him than they already had. Now they would know where he went to school and very easily be able to trace him in year books and rosters. Another groan followed when he remembered that he and Dib had been nominated, by his sister who found it hilarious, as ‘cutest couple’ in junior year. They had won and in the back of that yearbook was a picture of the two of them shouting at each other with ‘Cutest Couple’ lettered above it in glittery pink writing. Beneath that picture was a small collage of candid shots of them milling about the campus together, gathered by the wretched yearbook club, one of which even showed Dib sneaking a kiss onto Zim’s cheek.  

There would be no denying that there was a personal connection between him and ‘his hostage’ as soon as those dots were connected.  And as soon as they did, Dib would likely be treated as just as much of a fugitive as he was. They had no problem with nearly shooting him in the head when he was just ‘a hostage’ and the idea of what they would do to him now if they caught him made Zim feel sick.

They had to get out and they had to do it quickly. With a sigh Zim looked back into the duffle bag, spotting the sketchbook he had stored inside earlier. Nervousness erupted in his chest at the thought of following through with the plan, but he picked up the sketchbook anyway, letting it fall open on his knee.

It was a good plan.

He turned his head to look up at his mate. His sweet, loving boy. Dib was completely out. Zim probably could have tap danced on the hardwood floor and Dib would have been none the wiser. Zim turned his attention back to the computer, plugging it into his PAK to determine their location in correlation to the SPC Foundation.

If he cut directly through the woods, he could make it in a relatively short amount of time.

Zim pushed himself from the floor with a groan and rifled through a small cabinet in the shack and found a pen. He turned to a blank page of the sketchbook and with a sigh he began to write.

 

Dib-mate,

I know you are going to be upset. But know that I would not have done this if there was another way.

I am getting the Voot.

I will make it up to you.

I love you.

Forever yours,

Zim.

 

He sighed down at the note and glanced at his mate who still slept soundly on the couch. The Irken pressed a kiss to Dib’s forehead, unsurprised when the human did not even stir. Before he had a chance to second guess his course the Irken made his way to the door, slipping back into the forest.

He paused for just a moment, looking up at the stars twinkling above him. The sight of them, knowing that soon he and Dib would be free of this nightmare and travelling among them filled him with renewed vigor. His PAK legs erupted from their confines and Zim rushed back into the forest.

As he ran, he recited his plan over and over in his mind, doing his best not to think of how upset Dib was going to be with him. Within just a short few hours he was overlooking the compound.

Zim breathed deeply as he waited for the next guard rotation, surging forward when he saw his window of opportunity, managing to stay within a blind spot he had found in the security system. He got to the building, staying in the shadows as he moved. Several times he had to flatten himself against the wall, not daring to breathe as guards walked past him. But by the time he made it to the hanger, he was actually feeling rather confident in his plan. He was nearing the home stretch.

He glanced into the open door of the hanger, noting several groups of armed guards that milled about. But in the center of the hanger he saw it, his Voot.

His heart hammered in anticipation.  He was preparing for what he knew was going to be quite a fight. But his attention was pulled by a comment from one of the groups near him.

“Yeah, we are still working on 4022-A. Once they figure out how to boot the robot back up, we should be able to use him to track down B.”

A second guard responded, a little apprehensive, “Is that a good idea? That robot was a handful before we got it shorted out.”

There was a scoff, “I’m not worried. They have it in the containment lab and Membrane is working on it.”

GIR? He had assumed that his robot had been completely broken down, but he was here. Just one level down in the labs. Zim glanced at the Voot again. He could make it to the ship and get out. But he would be leaving Gir behind to face - who knows what. The thought made his spooch ache.

It was not that big of a detour. He could make it.

Zim moved back the other way, slipping into a different door to make his way toward the containment units which had served as his home for the last six years.

Dib awoke slowly, feeling groggy. Something was missing, something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t quite get himself focused, still ragged from sleep and his head still pounding—his phone was ringing? His eyes snapped open and he sat up, looking around the cabin in confusion as he fished his phone from his pocket. He thought he’d had it on silent—who ever called him—where was Zim? He had no idea how long he had slept for. It was still dark outside, with the first blue shadows of dawn. It was early. Or very, very late.

“Hello?” Dib answered the phone without checking the caller ID, standing to look around. Where fuck was Zim? He saw the note on the table and picked it up as he placed the phone on speaker. He almost threw up as he read its message, fear filling him from the feet up. “No. No, no, no no no —ohmygod, Zim, why …”

“Dib, you fucking idiot. Turn on the news—”

“Gaz?!” Dib asked, panic rushing into his body like a tidal wave, and he grabbed the computer off the floor, setting it up on the coffee table and searching for a live feed of the news, opening the window full-screen and staring in abject horror.

     “You’re so stupid sometimes, Dib. I have the fucking Takship. If you think I would leave that at Dad’s, then you’re completely hopeless—”

Dib slammed the phone down on the coffee table, not knowing whether or not he had even hung up, but it remained silent from then on. Dib stared at the small screen, sitting on his knees, shaking from head to toe, mouth agape.

The tears began streaming down his face, falling to his knees. He didn’t realize he was crying. Sobbing. He couldn’t breathe.

“—in an effort, we assume, to collect his robot, 4022-A, 4022-B returned to the Foundation a few hours prior. We lost a number of good men attempting to capture him, but as you can see, we have successfully contained the breach. Thankfully, no civilians were killed in the collection of 4022-B, and Mobile Task Force Operatives are currently on clean-up duty around the city.

This Keter-class SCP has proven more danger than it is worth, and we have successfully collected all information needed in the time it has been contained—”

Tears were streaming down Zim’s face too, pink and translucent, apologetic and terrified, full of regret and fear. It was heartbreaking and so much more.

“Oh, fuck, no, Zim, Jesus Christ no—”

“—in response, we must neutralize this threat. We are doing so publicly to guarantee civilians their safety. Anyone with a heart condition, children, or easily nauseated individuals please turn off your televisions now. The following footage is not for the faint hearted, and we also ask that you do not record this footage. It should take approximately seven more minutes for the threat to be neutralized.”

“FUCK.” Despite the terror, Dib couldn’t look away. This couldn’t be real. This could not be happening. “Zim, fuck, I’m sorry, no, you have to come home, you have to—” Dib covered his mouth with a loud sob, shaking and slouched over the computer screen. Zim closed his eyes with a weak breath. He was bound to a chair, his PAK sitting, lifeless, on a table nearby, mouth taped shut and eyes wide. They knew exactly how long it would take, probably from their years of experimentation and torture. Every morsel left of Dib’s heart and soul was being ripped slowly from his chest as he watched. “I can’t do this without you.”

This had to be a sick joke. Was it April first? Was Zim fucking with his head? Testing him? Was this some horrible dream? Had he wound back up in the nightmare dimension again somehow?

He watched as Zim paled. He blinked a couple times, the light draining from his beautiful red eyes. His love was dying, and he couldn’t do anything about it.

The Federation employees slowly exited the room, aside from the one working the camera. Dib sobbed into his hand but couldn’t take his eyes away. With his other, he slowly reached out and touched the screen—hoping— praying —he could reach through and feel his love’s soft skin one more time, hold his hand one more time, yell at him one more time.

The minutes ticked by like hours until Zim’s eyes drifted closed, never to open again.

Dib had stopped crying.

In a daze, he stood and made his way into the kitchen, opening drawers and cupboards, rooting around for the perfect thing.

“Dib? Are you still there? Don’t do anything stupid, where are you? I had no idea they were going to show—anything. Dib? Dib? God damn it, Dib, answer the fucking phone. I’m on my way to your apartment.”

Finally, Dib found it. A hunting rifle and a case of bullets. Slowly, and with purpose, he loaded the gun.

Made his way back to the computer.

Sat in front of it, Zim’s lifeless form on the screen, limp in his bindings, antennae slack, pink tears drying on his face. Dib turned the rifle around in his hands, positioning it under his jaw.

“I will always love you. I’m not leaving you again.”

In an instant, everything went black.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Dib moves slowly as he wakes from a long nap, struggling, as usual, to just get out of bed. Each movement is long and lumbering, but finally he slides off the bed to stand, and stretch, and decide what to do with the rest of his day.

 

He decides there isn’t going to be another. He makes his way to the kitchen, grabs a bottle of vodka. Grabs a pouch of coke. A single rolled joint. A cigarette. Final indulgences.

 

Just as slowly, he makes his way out of the small studio apartment, onto his balcony. He stares out into the setting sun, as the stars begin to flicker along the clouds, and looks down into the quieting streets ten stories below.

 

Dib sits, still shirtless and in his boxers, hanging his legs between the bars of the banister and absorbing the rest of the day’s sunlight. He checks his phone, to see if anything came through on tumblr. Nothing had.

 

He takes a swig from the bottle of vodka, followed by another, and a third. He delicately shakes some of the white powder onto the back of his left hand and inhales it sharply, followed by another. He lights the joint, and lays back, taking his time as he smokes, staring at the bottom of the balcony above him.

Once finished, he lights the cigarette and takes another long swig from the vodka.

 

Today, Dib decides, he would take his life.

 

He did not know how long had passed. Days bled into weeks which bled into months and years. It seemed that for an eternity his view had been white walls, sterile medical equipment and humans in biohazard suits. His only break from agonizing pain and cruel experiments at the hands of these men and women were the hours that he was left in complete isolation, the only break in silence his own heartbeat on a monitor and on occasion his sobs when his composure would break.

 

The night of his escape was a blur. He recalled being removed from his restraints to be exposed to one of their “hydro-weapons “which they were developing for use against his race after finding out how adversely water affected him. But after that, he could recall very little. He knew there was stumbling through trees and wilderness, the groundcover biting into the soles of his bare feet as he ran, his white smock covered in a substance that was too dark and smelled too much like iron to be his own blood.

 

He vaguely remembered digging his claws into the skin of his neck to pull out a tracking device and throwing it into a rushing river. He could almost recall using a small tracer that had remained hidden in the codes that made his PAK function to home in on the one person on this ball of dirt that might help him.

 

What Zim could recall perfectly was the signal he put out emitting what seemed like an almost deafening series of beeps as he approached a towering human dwelling, signaling that he has found his query.  As if it also signaled the end of his endurance, the Irken remembered the sensation of the concrete rushing up to meet him as he passed out in the parking lot.

 

Dib decidedly fucked enough to end his life of wallowing in his own pity, in the loss of Zim and cryptozoology and science, sat up and took a final hard swig of the vodka. Long and deep, before he pulled himself back into a seated position. It was time. Enough is enough.

 

Carefully, he reached into the sliding glass door, tugging his laptop off the carpet and onto the balcony, typing something up quickly and posting it on his blog. Gaz and his editor could deal with the rest as they saw fit. He pushed the computer aside.

 

Something was weird, something was off, like maybe—he had already done this before—

 

Shaking the thought away, Dib began to pull himself up onto the black metal balcony, looking down into his building’s parking lot–

 

What? Dib stared, blearily, through glasses and down ten stories, in awe. What was that? Someone was lying in the parking lot. No… There was no way. It couldn’t be. It was impossible. But it looked just like–he needed to be sure.

 

Dib ripped himself down from the banister, stumbling and bleary, crashing into the door on his way in. This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t real. He tugged his clothes on quickly, shaking, sure that he was way too high and must be hallucinating. There was no other way.

 

Dib took the stairs, and ran through the building, out the front doors, toward the body, before he slowed down. Still unsure, still not believing his own vision, he kneeled down and gently turned the green body, covered in his own and human blood. Shaking, Dib gently touched his face. He needed to see his eyes.

“Zim?”

 

It all came flooding back in an instant, like he had been hit in the chest with a hammer. Zim on the pavement. Getting tackled to the floor. Making love—the sounds —preparing for the journey. His father’s house. Their disappointment. The photos.

 

The cabin.

 

The video feed.

 

Zim, dead.

 

The gun.

 

What the fuck was happening?

 

The Irken vaguely heard the crunching of gravel as rapid footfalls rushed toward him. His antenna twitched at the sound, but it was the only movement he could manage. He could not even fight against being turned over.

 

At the sound of his name he forced his eyes open slightly. It took a few blinks for the boy’s face to come into focus. He had aged. His skin was not flawless and smooth as it was the last time they spoke. It had a waxy sheen and he needed to shave. But his eyes, while bloodshot, were still the color of honey.

 

He groaned in pain as he lifted an arm to touch Dib’s cheek with the tips of his fingers. He needed to make sure that what he was seeing was real. His voice cracked from years of going unused, but he managed to reply weakly, “Hi, Stinky.”

 

Dib gasped when Zim said his name, staring down at his love in awe. This has happened before. Moment for moment, second for second—even how Zim spoke to him. He let out a weak gasp, swallowing thickly as he scooped Zim into his arms, much the same as he did—last time?

 

He took the stairs at a full sprint, moving like he hadn’t in the last six years. Everything was coming back like a sick sense of Déjà vu. He had watched his love die. He had watched the light leave his eyes. He had shot himself in the head.

 

So how was this happening again?

 

Dib wanted to throw up, to step away, leave Zim in his room and leap from the balcony like he had intended the first time, but he knew he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Not with Zim here, not with him alive again and in his arms and he had a second chance.

Whatever this was—he was going to do it right this time. Whatever the fuck that meant.

 

He practically kicked down his door, slamming it shut behind him and locking it under Zim’s waist, taking him quickly over to the bed and settling him down comfortably. He rushed to grab the vodka off the balcony—it was what Zim had used to clean off the blood last time, he recalled, while he got himself dressed.

 

“Hey space boy… you’re okay, I promise. Y-you’re going to b-be okay. I’m gonna clean you up, alright? J-just rest.” He asked, gently placing a hand on Zim’s face, causing another soft gasp to leave his lips. He was weak, and scarred, and bleeding–but most of the blood was human, and he knew that it was from the twelve Federation members he killed in his escape.

 

He remembered the feeling of touching the computer screen. The memories of the last two days were vivid pictures in his mind, snapshots of moments that must have happened —but how? Why? They should both be dead. “How you holdin’ up, kid?” He saw the tears landing on Zim’s smock before he realized he was crying.

 

Zim groaned in pain as he was lifted easily into the human’s grip. He wrapped his arms loosely around Dib’s neck in an attempt to stop the sudden shift from making him pass out again, which was a real possibility.

 

The way he shifted as Dib ran and stumbled made him feel like he was about to be sick, so he tucked his face against the boy and shut his eyes firmly to block out the sensations. It gave him the opportunity to just breathe. Finally, safe, finally with Dib. When he breathed, he could smell the familiar perfume of the boy’s skin. It was masked by blood, both the coppery bitterness of human and the sickly sweet of Irken. It was also altered by astringent chemical smells that Zim couldn’t immediately identify and it had likely been awhile since the boy had bothered to shower, but beneath all that, it smelled like Dib.

 

When he was set down on the bed, his body had tensed uncomfortably but he was soon able to allow himself to relax into the bedding. He had reached out to touch Dib, to feel the comfort of his presence, but the boy was already walking out of the door. He was only gone a moment, soon he was returning with a half bottle of clear booze and a strained, worried expression on his face. Zim had closed his eyes and leaned his face into the soft press of Dib’s fingers on his face, desperate for the warmth and contact.

 

When he opened them again, he saw that the boy was crying, tears streaming steadily down his face. He reached up to wipe away the tears with his thumb, ignoring the hiss and discomfort when the tears made contact with his sensitive skin. His voice was quiet when he spoke, his own eyes rimmed with pink tears that began to fall onto his freckled cheeks, “I did not leave you by choice, Dib. I need you to know that. I am so sorry. I did not want this to happen.”

 

Dib smiled weakly down at Zim, carefully leaning in to press his lips to Zim’s forehead before he pulled back, hurrying into the bathroom to grab a clean hand cloth before coming back and setting to work on cleaning up all of the blood. He was shivering, not from the cold, but from the nerves, rubbing his eyes with a spare hand before wiping away Zim’s tears, too.

 

“I know, Zim. I know. It’s okay, love, you’re here now,” he tried to reassure the Irken, but his voice was shaky and filled with worry and anxiety. If he had a second chance, he would have to do it right this time. He would have to do everything right.

 

He was already planning their next round as he cleaned Zim up. Gaz had the Takship. He would call her, go pick it up. He knew he wouldn’t be able to convince Zim to leave without GIR… maybe they would have to go to the Federation after all. They wouldn’t need to get the Voot, so they could go in, get GIR, and get out. At least he knew that Gaz was on their side and wouldn’t tell their father anything. Maybe they could even stay there as they made up a plan? He’d have to call her soon, but first—

 

“How much do you remember?” He asked, for the first time in about four years, he wasn’t thinking about the drugs or the alcohol. He wasn’t thinking about doing a line to get through this. All that mattered was that they were together again, with a second chance to make this right—but he needed to know how much Zim recalled, if he knew what had happened to them before. If not, Dib didn’t want to scare him. He couldn’t have Zim know the trauma he had gone through watching him die.

 

Zim’s heart skipped a beat in his chest as Dib reassured him, pressed his lips to his forehead and called him love. He had spent Irk knows how long, wallowing in his cell, sure that Dib would hate him for leaving. But there was no anger. No doubt. There was only concern, love, and relief in Dib’s voice.

 

The tears fell faster down his cheeks as Dib cleaned the blood from his skin with exceeding tenderness. For a moment he was sure that this all had to be some sort of dream. That possibly his mind had finally broken under the pressure and that he had fallen into delusion and hallucination to cope.

 

At the question, Zim released a breath he had not even realized he had been holding. His brow furrowed in confusion for just a moment before he said “After … after our fight… I got caught the next day. Three blocks from your house…”

 

The alien averted his gaze as he continued sadly, “I… I went and got my stupid job back. I bought a stupid flower. I was coming to your house to accept your offer. But these vans came out of nowhere, Dib. I was distracted.  I let my guard down …”

 

“Oh, Zim,” Dib murmured, placing the cloth and bottle of vodka off to the side, next to Zim on the bed, cupping the Irken’s face in his hands and pressing their foreheads together. “It’s okay. It is not your fault. It’s mine. I should have looked harder for you. God, there’s so much I wish I had done differently. You’re here now. You’re safe. I’m here.”

 

Dib pulled back just slightly, placing soft kisses all over Zim—he didn’t want to scare his love, he was sure Zim was shell-shocked, but he just couldn’t help it. He had just watched him die, and here he was, back where he belonged. He needed to touch him, to feel him, kiss him, be close to him in every way he could.

 

“It’s all going to be okay, I promise,” Dib pulled back again, using his thumbs to wipe the tears from his love’s face. “You’re safe now. We’ll have all the flowers in the universe soon, we’ll have all of those things soon,” he muttered, smiling weakly down at Zim, trying so fucking hard to be strong for him in this moment. He remembered last time, and he knew how much pain the Irken was in. He was repeating himself, but he wasn’t sure what to say.

 

Obviously Zim didn’t remember ‘the last time’, and he didn’t want to worry him into taking off on his own again. Taking a deep breath, he sat up slightly. He felt haggard, and slightly sick, and was suddenly, all over again, way too aware of his own body, now thinned from years of drug use—the tattoos done in the name of his past, the scars from dirty razors, the pale skin from lack of sunlight, and dry, chapped lips.

 

Averting his gaze, he picked up the cloth again and finished cleaning the blood off Zim’s skin, finally pulling away to get some clothes for him—he had a loose, but clean, pair of boxers and one of his old t-shirts with a grouchy blue emoticon on it—as well as for himself, a simple pair of black jeans, a plain grey t-shirt, and a hoodie, his back to Zim. Dib was anxiously aware of the defective logo on his back, and what it meant now. He knew it all. “How long do you need to rest?” he asked quietly, wanting to get in the shower and get dressed himself but also remembering that it had spurred a panic attack that he desperately wanted to avoid.

 

Zim felt as though he were in a fugue state. It was all so surreal. He wondered for a moment if he might have a concussion from hitting his head on the pavement. The Irken could not count the times that he had imagined reuniting with Dib. Having the boy rush into his arms and be nothing but grateful to be together again. He had given up hope of that happening long ago.

 

But now, he was here with Dib. The human was taking charge without question. Taking care of him. Kissing him. His human still cared for him as deeply as he did the last time they spoke, when he had asked Zim to move in together. He didn’t even seem the slightest bit angry that Zim had walked away from him that day.

 

He stared at the boy as he was gently cleaned. Dib had changed so much since had last seen him. He looked so stressed. Like he was ill and hadn’t slept or eaten in far too long. It broke his heart to see him in such bad shape and he wondered what the poor human had been through? Before he could ask, Dib had already stood again.

 

He took the clothes offered to him with shaking hands, slowly rising with the assistance of his PAK legs to stand. He was still a little unbalanced but managed to stay upright enough to pull on the boxers and toss the dirty smock he wore in the garbage.

 

“Not long. Zim will heal quickly enough,” he looked up at the human questioning him and felt as if he had been hit with a ton of bricks.

 

A large black defective Irken symbol had been scarred into Dib’s back. He dropped the shirt on the floor and rushed forward in a spider like blur of motion and touched the blackened skin delicately as if it were likely to explode, “Who did this to you? Are there other Irkens here? Dib, did they hurt you?”

 

Dib jumped when Zim moved quickly toward him, suddenly feeling cold, soft fingers on his skin. His spine, which was more pronounced now, arched at the touch and he glanced over his shoulder at the Irken, raised from the ground on the PAK legs.

 

“No, no. No Irkens here. Don’t worry. No, nobody’s hurt me except me. It’s just—it’s a tattoo,” he said, raising his arms to show some of the others, not turning around to face Zim properly. “That was the first one I got, a few months after you disappeared. I still had some of your stuff on my computer. I was looking through the symbols and saw this one—figured at that point it suited me and that I should get it for you,” he shrugged, tugging himself into his jeans, finally turning to face Zim, something catching his attention from the corner of his eye.

 

His cigarettes were still on the nightstand—where he had them last time. Sliding past Zim, with a gentle hand on his shoulder in what he hoped would be a comfort, he grabbed the pack and pulled one out slowly, eyes narrowed in thought as he slipped it between his lips, flicked on his lighter, and lit it with a deep, slow inhale. He closed his eyes, held the smoke in for just a moment too long, before releasing it again. It physically hurt having to tell his love all of this again. Knowing he’d also have to listen to the horrors Zim had endured again, not wanting to let on that he already knew the majority of it.

 

Dib could see his hand shaking as he raised the cigarette again.

 

The image of Zim strapped to a chair, the life slowly fading from him, flashed before his eyes and he turned away with a wince and a quiet gasp, eyes stinging. He tried to blame it on the smoke.

 

“It’s—been a long six years, Zim. Where— where were you? Who took you?” Dib asked, even though he hated it. He tugged the shirt on over his head, careful of the cigarette, the antennae part of the tattoo still poking up above the collar. “You should lay back down, don’t overexert yourself.” Gently, he took Zim’s hand to lead him back to the bed, sitting down on the edge with his feet flat on the floor, keeping his gaze averted.

 

Zim’s body relaxed a bit when Dib assured him that the marking was self-inflicted.  He tried to glance at the other tattoos, his fingers beginning to trace along the images, but Dib almost immediately walked away from him again. The Irken deflated a bit more with every step that Dib took away from him, physically sinking to the ground as every moment passed that Dib refused to look at him.

 

Perhaps there was more anger at him in the boy than he thought. But he could understand that. Why Dib would want some distance from him, even if he had been caught up, at first, in the emotion of seeing the Irken again after so long.

 

Zim slowly bent down to pick up the shirt, bringing his PAK legs in and pulling it over his head to cover his scarred chest a little self-consciously. He let Dib lead him to the bed and he sat down, bring his legs up to his chest under the oversized t shirt.

 

“I do not know where I was,” Zim replied softly, wrapping his arms around his legs. He leaned forward to rest his chin on his knees, “It was Military mens. Scientists.”

 

Dib shook his head, glancing at Zim quickly before he did a double-take. Dammit, Dib –the hurt and trauma on Zim’s face was clear. He knew he was hurting Zim by acting this way; it was difficult walking the line between keeping Zim close and not letting on what he knew, along with pushing aside his own traumas. That didn’t matter. Zim mattered.

 

He recognized this fetal position. Last time, it ended in a bad scratch on his face and the wind knocked out of him. “Sounds like the SCP Federation. You don’t have to talk about it if you aren’t ready or don’t want to. Is it okay to touch you?” he asked, cautiously reaching a hand out, palm upturned to let his love know he was here and meant no harm.

 

“This is all so much for both of us,” he continued, his classic way of speaking too much to fill the silence, ease his discomfort, try and settle a situation. He kept his hand raised for Zim to accept it when he was ready. “I’m a little overwhelmed. I’ve been wanting to see you again for so long. And I can’t imagine how hard that time was for you. I’m just… So glad you’re back. And safe.”

 

Dib took another puff on his smoke before putting it out in the ashtray on the nightstand, careful and cautious with his movements. Just like last time, it would take a few hours before Zim’s strain weaned a little. They would have a few moments of calm soon–he hoped.

 

Zim turned his head to face the boy as he spoke, letting his cheek rest on the top of his knee as he looked at the outstretched hand and listened to him explain. Slowly, as Dib extinguished the foul-smelling cigarette, Zim moved one of his hands and traced the lines on Dib’s palm with the tips of his fingers before lacing his lithe digits between the humans with some trepidation.  

 

Once their hands were clasped the Irken returned his gaze forward, taking in the sight of the apartment with some germophobic concern. It was filthy. It looked as if Dib had been living like one of the dirty hobos in the city, sleeping amongst piles of garbage.

 

He looked back at the boy, taking in the look of concern and anxiety. It was just too much all at once. Dib wasn’t angry with him, merely trying to process it all. Which was understandable, he was still in shock himself.

 

“Yes. It has been a rather… strenuous evening. I am glad that I found you,” he quietly replied. Zim took another deep breath, trying to calm himself and the chaotic feelings stirring inside him. He tried to flash one of his typical wide grins up at the human but knew that it fell short, not quite meeting his eyes. “I missed you, Stinky.”

 

Dib smiled softly when Zim linked their fingers together, and he offered a gentle squeeze in return. “I missed you, too, space boy,” he said, attempting to flash a grin of his own, but found himself unable. It has been a long couple day.

 

After a few moments of just looking at Zim, and being there in his presence– God, he had a second chance –Dib shifted slightly. “I’m just going to clean up in the bathroom,” he said, lifting Zim’s hand so he could kiss the long fingers, keeping them settled against his lips for a few moments before he stood. “I’ll leave the door open.”

 

He didn’t know how much he should tell Zim. The drugs? He would have to–the addiction wouldn’t disappear overnight, and he needed to be focused as they went on with their plan. The depression? The scars were still visible around the tattoos, and he had still woken up this morning with the intent on ending his life before he saw Zim. But did he need to know that? He wasn’t sure it would disappear just because Zim had come home, and now he kept having flashbacks–

 

Dib slipped into the bathroom, leaving the door open. Grabbing a face cloth, he turned the water on lightly, over aware of Zim’s traumas this time. As he gave his face and hands a wash, and began brushing his teeth, he made sure Zim could see and hear him. He’d do anything to take Zim’s place.

 

“I’m just amazed you’re back,” he said with a slightly full-mouthed slur in his voice, “At first I thought you didn’t want to be with me. Went back to Irk. I tried to look for you.” Not hard enough. You failed him when you gave up after two years, and you failed him again when you allowed him to leave on his own. You killed him. Dib turned away sharply to spit the toothpaste in the sink, eyes squeezed shut as he gripped the counter.

 

Zim breathed a little easier with his hand in Dib’s. The gentle contact serving like a lifeline, a reassurance that he desperately needed. The human bringing his fingers up to kiss them helped a smile sit a little more naturally on his features.  

Then Dib walked away from him again, leaving the Irken gripping his knees in an attempt to self sooth on the bed. The sound of the soft trickle of water made his teeth grind together anxiously, but he kept his eyes trained on the human, reminding himself silently that Dib was not going to be using that water against him.

 

At the garbled words Zim lowered his eyes in shame, focusing on his toes, which were still dirty from running barefoot during his escape. “Zim wanted to be with you… and cannot go back to Irk.”

 

He can’t go back to … Oh. He knew that, too. Dib took a deep breath, leaning over the sink. “You… Can’t go back? What happened?” he asked, finally raising himself up, wiping his mouth and hands dry, and coming back over to Zim, sitting down cautiously and placing a hand on Zim’s knee. He hoped his expression was just as concerned as before–not that he wasn’t concerned, but he already knew. It broke his heart the first time, and it would break again.

 

He stopped talking, now, leaving the floor open for Zim to reiterate everything that he’d said before, but letting his own thoughts wander slightly.

 

How was it that this happened? Everything reset–he watched his love die and shot himself in the head, and here he was, back in his shit hole apartment, time repeating itself, Zim was here. Alive, but with no memory of what they had gone through together. Why did he remember, but Zim didn’t?

 

He wanted to scream, to tell Zim everything, to hug him and never let go, and also to kick down the doors of the SCP Foundation and burn it to the fucking ground. His grip tightened slightly on Zim’s knee.

 

The Irken lifted his eyes to look at the ceiling letting out a heavy sigh. Everything he had known had been a lie. Humiliated and rejected by his people. Exiled and forgotten.

 

He shifted his hand to rest his fingers lightly on the back of Dib’s hand on his knee then slowly lacing their fingers together again. “Zim is… defective. I am not a real invader. Just an intergalactic joke.”

 

Zim turned to look at the human and looked at his companion with shame, “My mission was a lie just to keep me away from the Armada. So, I didn’t ruin this Operation Impending Doom. The Irkens were never coming. Even if I had been competent enough to take over Earth.”

 

Dib listened to Zim speak, squeezing his hand in his own once their fingers were laced. It was just as heart-wrenching this time as it was the last. The hurt and humiliation of it all so clear in his face–Dib had always known that nobody cared about his interests and passions. He had always known he had nobody. Zim didn’t.

 

“I’m so sorry,” he said, giving the hand a squeeze. “I couldn’t imagine how hard that was to hear. But–I wouldn’t have you any other way. You need to know that.  And I would never say you’re not competent. Maybe some projects…” he looked back up at Zim with a glint in his eyes and continued, “just need a little teamwork.”

 

Maybe they could burn it all down together, once they got off this stupid ball of dirt. Both of their home planets had treated them like nothing. Less than nothing. After that vacation on Neibru… Dib was sure they would find something to do together: something they could destroy. They’d start with the SCP Foundation.

 

The thought ignited a boiler in Dib’s chest that he didn’t realize he could fire up again. Some sort of real passion, some fight in him. His lip found his way between his teeth and he almost smirked through the bite. “You and me, Zim. I can’t even begin to understand what you’ve been through the last six years. Discovering that. Being taken. But you’re here now and we’re together again. God, I would–” Dib looked away, blinking quickly and still half-grinning to himself. “I’d do anything for you. I’d burn it all from the ground up if you asked.”

 

Zim kept his eyes trained on the human as he spoke. Waiting for the realization to hit that Zim being a fraud had meant that Dib’s attempts to stop him had also been pointless. For Dib to be disgusted with him for being defective and broken.

 

But Dib’s eyes had fire in them and when the boy had suggested that they be a team, Zim’s eyes widened in surprise. Even before he had been taken, he did not think that he could have considered Dib to be on his team. They had a truce between them of sorts. They had friendship and a bit of romance. But never in his life could he recall anyone ever wanting to be completely in his corner, wanting to support him and be his confidante.

 

Zim lifted his head away from his knees to look at the boy as he spoke with passion, worrying his lip in that boyish smirk.

 

‘You and me, Zim.’

 

It was such a simple statement.  But the idea that he did not need to be alone anymore made a lump form in his throat. And when Dib finished speaking, when he had thrown aside his identity as Protector of Earth in favor of staying at Zim’s side and getting justice for the wrongs that had happened to him, the Irken scurried out of his fetal position and launched himself at the boy, wrapping his arms around Dib’s shoulders and burying his face into the human’s neck.

 

It felt as though floodgates had opened, carrying with it all the weight of the last six years and beyond. All of it breaking free as he openly sobbed against his human. He had not cried like this since he was just a smeet, alone in his room at the academy on Irk, when he was left without an ally for the war games.

 

Between his shaking sobs, barely understandable, the Irken managed to say, “I love you.”

 

Dib jumped when Zim leapt toward him but relaxed instantly when the Irken wrapped his arms around his shoulders and buried into him. Dib squeezed him in response, before he decided to adjust them properly. Lifting the Irken carefully and gently—it wasn’t hard, the once-Invader was now slightly thinned himself, and wasn’t heavy to begin with—he adjusted their position so that Dib’s back was against the pillows and the wall, and he pulled Zim into his lap.

 

“I love you, too,” he muttered, leaning down to kiss the top of Zim’s head, stroking Zim’s back between his shoulder blades just above the PAK in an effort to comfort him. Saying the words this time around was no issue. He wasn’t scared of what they meant, or what he and Zim were capable of together. He wasn’t scared of rejection or Zim leaving him again. Last time proved that none of those things would happen, that Zim would be by his side— so long as they worked as a team.

 

Dib continued his gentle kisses, keeping one arm to comfort Zim and using the other to reach under his jaw and lift his head, to look into his eyes. “It’s going to be okay,” he said, moving down to kiss the pinkish tears away. He was startled, but also unsurprised, by the taste of them—the sweet, not-quite-spicy bite of… cinnamon sugar? He almost laughed, but knew it wasn’t the right time for that. He continued to kiss away the tears, making his way down until he reached Zim’s mouth, kissing him softly.

 

“I am so sorry. I wish I could erase the last six years. I wish I had tried harder to find you. I wish I hadn’t let you leave that day. There’s so much I wish I could change, but I can’t. I just need you to know that I’m here now, and I’m here forever.” Dib had never really seen Zim cry before, especially not like this. He didn’t blame his love after all that he’d been through. “I love you,” he repeated, “I should’ve done better. Been better. You deserve better.” He kissed Zim again, but with passion and desperation.

 

I thought I’d lost you again.

 

Zim was trying to get a grip on himself by the time that Dib had begun kissing his face, but his breath was still coming to him in shuddering gasps, making him hiccough softly into the first, tender kiss.

 

Dib’s words fell like sweet music to him, the devotion evident in every syllable. He made it seem as though staying at the side of a defective Irken that had rejected him and disappeared for years was the most simple choice he ever made. He did not doubt Zim for a moment. Just took him as he was, defects, weaknesses, falsehoods and all. He looked at him as though he were infallible, perfect in his imperfections.  

 

Zim let Dib kiss him passionately, returning the affection with a soft and muffled purr. He brought one hand up to wrap his fingers into the human’s unruly hair, pulling him closer as he clung to him as though his life depended on it.

 

Dib released a soft moan into Zim’s mouth when the kiss was returned, and another when his hand found its way into hair and clung onto him. He wanted to lean his head into Zim’s hands, and he wanted the tight grip on his locks and the claws against his scalp—he pulled back looked into Zim’s eyes for just a moment before he leaned down again, nuzzling instead into Zim’s neck before beginning to kiss the soft, scarred skin, tugging the loose collar of the t-shirt out of the way, leaving light bites up Zim’s neck and to his jaw.

 

He kept his movements and touches for the most part gentle. He wanted to let Zim define their pace here. Dib had no idea what could be different about this time and didn’t want to make any assumptions. “Let’s get more comfortable, yeah?” he asked into Zim’s skin, and at the responsive nod, Dib adjusted them again into more of a horizontal position, still leaning into Zim’s neck where he left soft kisses and nips.

 

“Let me know if there’s anything you aren’t comfortable with,” he murmured against the Irken’s skin. It was finally starting to warm up— God, how long had he been running for? —He didn’t want to move too fast, but after everything he had been through and seen, he wanted Zim badly and wanted to prove again and again how devoted he truly was.

 

The feeling of Dib’s moan against his tongue sent a shiver down the Irken’s spine that was only amplified by the boy’s hands on his body, holding him close but touching him so gently. He had to catch his breath when Dib pulled away from him, an act that was made difficult as he began purring loudly when Dib started nipping at the skin on his throat and shoulder.

 

When the human suggested that they move, Zim had brought his lower lip between his teeth, worrying at it softly as he nodded in response. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as Dib scooted down further on the bed, taking him along with him quite easily. When the human laid back, Zim was on top of him, their chests pressing together. Zim could feel the warmth of Dib’s skin even through the fabric of their shirts, but even the dull warmth was soothing.

 

At Dib’s second statement Zim nodded again and adjusted his position to allow him to kiss at the boy’s cheek, just beneath a rather impressive black eye. He wondered what had happened but knew that if it were important, Dib would tell him about it in good time. Zim moved his kisses along Dib’s jaw, using his fingers to lift the boy’s chin as he planted soft kisses and bites along a bizarre bruise that encompassed most of the human’s throat. He looked as if he had been in one hell of a fight.

 

He kissed every inch of the bruise, nuzzling his face against Dib’s jaw once. He pulled back enough to look down at Dib, his cheeks darkening to a deeper green which made the bright pink spots beneath his eyes all the more apparent. “Dib can touch Zim… if he wants … I won’t push you away.”

 

Dib rumbled a moan as Zim began kissing his cheek– jaw–chin–throat –the bruise was still quite tender. He hadn’t looked in the mirror since the last time, but he was suddenly worried about the graze from the bullet on his scalp. Instinctively, he tilted his head up not just to give Zim more room, but also to pull away, allowing the hand to stay in his hair but hyperaware now of its position in the dark locks.

 

When Zim pulled back too, Dib looked up at him under the frames of his glasses. He grinned a little at the darkening blush on his cheekbones, and the pink speckles along his skin. Dib raised a hand, grazing the pad of his thumb along the spots before he trailed the tips of his fingers down to his shoulders where the pink polka dots continued, make only brighter by the flush in his skin, green deepening.

 

The words of reassurance–the ones he’d heard last time –barreled Dib into a protective dominance he wasn’t sure he was ready to accept, and another low rumble escaped his chest. He rose himself up, burying his face again into Zim’s neck to kiss and suck at the skin, one hand firm on Zim’s lower back, the other sliding from his shoulder down to his wrist to grasp it gently.

 

He continued his rumbling into Zim’s throat, glasses becoming crooked and fogged. “I want you,” he purred, “I want you, mine,” a sharp nip to collarbone, “And I yours. Your… Tallest?” Dib spoke the last word in a heated whisper, hoping, praying that it meant the same to Zim this time as it did last.

 

Zim gave the boy soft chitters of encouragement and acceptance as the human’s hand roamed his body and soft kisses and bites were placed on his neck and shoulder. He wanted to make sure that Dib knew that he meant it when he said he would not push him away. So many times in the past Dib would have gotten close to this intimacy, only to receive a bloody nose and be thrown to the floor for his efforts.

 

He never seemed to be mad at Zim for it either, simply collapsing onto the floor and pinching the bridge of his nose to stem the flow of blood as he grumbled that Zim was a ‘brat’ or a ‘tease’. It was just his nature though. And Dib had known that. Invaders do not give in to romance, not openly. Especially not with the enemy.

 

But Zim was not an invader anymore. And Dib was not the enemy. They were a team. Partners.

 

The Irken had hummed softly when Dib began to mumble those possessive words into his throat. But he gave a pause at the last word, pulling back to look down at the boy curiously.

 

His Tallest?

 

His rejection by The Tallest had been one of the biggest blows that he had experienced.  Since he was a smeet, all he wanted to do was to serve and be accepted by The Tallest. It was what gave him purpose. It was what defined him. He had given all of himself and so much more in his efforts to please and serve his Tallests. Without it he had felt empty, just a shell of his former self. But like so many other aspects of his life, Dib was here to fill that void.

 

A half smile tugged at his lips, his eyes shifting to a vibrant pink as he looked down at his human…his Tallest.

 

He straightened his back and grinned down at Dib, lifting his free hand to trace a finger along the stubbly jaw. The Irken raised a brow and cooed softly down at him, “And how is it that you would like Zim to serve his Tallest?”

 

Dib smirked up at Zim, letting go of the Irken’s waist to adjust his glasses properly, the muted light from the darkening glass doors and a small lamp on the dresser causing a glint. He arched his neck into the claw, licking his lips.

 

“Well …” he started, reaching up and taking Zim’s other wrist as well, laying one bone-tattooed finger along Zim’s, using it to press down into the soft skin just under his jaw, where the bruise began. He released a shuddering breath, and still smirking, continued, “you can start there. I want a reminder of you on every inch of me,” he dragged Zim’s hand, the clawed finger more specifically, slowly down his throat, along his Adam’s apple, stopping in the dip of his collar bone. He couldn’t tell if he was bleeding or not.

 

“But first,” Dib let go of Zim’s wrist that was leaning on the bed, still holding the other against him, and grabbed his love to kiss him passionately one more time. His tongue found his way between jagged teeth, along his very alien tongue. He pulled back a moment too soon, teasing.

 

“I want you to take your time.”

 

Zim chittered softly at the boy as he prompted him to drag his claws across the skin of his throat. He was not surprised in the slightest by the human’s request to be for pain, Dib had always gotten a thrill from their fighting. When they were dating in Hi Skool the boy always worked a little harder to instigate passionate exchanges after Zim had roughed him up a bit. Trying his best to bite and scratch at the Irken lustfully, very rarely succeeding unless Zim had decided to let himself be pinned for a few moments to satiate some of the boy’s more carnal desires.

 

But it was not just about Dib’s desires, but also finally acknowledging and giving into his own desire for the boy.

 

The kiss and the heated whisper, telling him to take his time as he claimed the boy for his own, brought another lustful chitter rumbling from the Irken’s chest. Zim smirked widely, razor sharp teeth shining in the dim light as he dipped down to trace the line of Dib’s jaw with his prehensile tongue and nipped lightly at the human’s earlobe. He spoke in a dangerous and low tone, quietly hissing into the boy’s ear, “As you wish, my Tallest.”

 

Zim pulled away, straightening his back again, his eyes narrowed almost viciously as he dragged his claws along Dib’s throat firmly enough to leave red lines along the length, letting them come to rest at the collar of the ratty t shirt he wore. The Irken grabbed the material in his fists and tugged, ripping the fabric with seemingly no effort whatsoever.

 

He took a moment to admire the exposed tawny skin, noting another large bruise across his chest. He let his hands explore the flesh, pushing his fingertips in more firmly on the darkened areas, purring softly at the winces and moans that accompanied his actions. Zim bent forward, glancing up at Dib with a wicked grin before letting out a growl and sinking his teeth into the human’s chest, hard enough that he could taste copper on his tongue.

 

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” he murmured, arching his back and leaning into Zim’s mouth, gasping at the nip to his ear. He’d started stretching them in High Skool, leaving little room for Zim to nibble on, but he didn’t do much of that anyway back then. It was always a soft spot.

 

Dib let his eyes flutter closed at the scratches on his neck, and he let his hand fall away, making its new home on Zim’s hip while his other clutched the sheets on the bed. The tone in Zim’s voice was almost threatening, and it had him hot and panting in an instant. Since he met Zim, he had always craved a lack of control. That followed him into his plans, into their fights, and the older they got, and the more violent, the more often Dib wound up at home afterwards harboring some very shameful fantasies. Fantasies that could become a reality—if he played his cards right.

 

That need to lose control just strengthened after Zim disappeared, finding his fix in a new—inebriation of many forms.

 

“Zim—” he moaned at the pressure on his chest, writhing slightly at each rough touch. “God, Zim, you’re perfect—”

 

At the bite, however, Dib’s head tossed back, and he wailed, his other hand rising to meet Zim’s hip as well, the fingers on both hands digging into his love as he arched into him, eyes rolling back as he squeezed them tightly shut. “Oh, fucking Christ, Zim,” the pain in his voice was joined by a rough, fiery pleasure, and the almost-scream descended into a chesty growl. He knew he’d be feeling that for days, each twinge of pain a reminder of who he now belonged to.

 

The cold of Zim’s tongue, the sharp sting of teeth, the feeling of warmth flooding his chest— “That’s going to do some damage,” he chuckled, his voice still rugged and throaty, animalistic in its own way. He opened one eye, tilting his head down to look at Zim, eyes half-closed with what could only be described as heat, a smirk still tugging at the corner of his mouth, his flesh still between the teeth. After a moment of observation, he groaned loudly and let his head fall back as the pain sent shivers down his spine. “Jesus. Please do that again. No, actually, wait, surprising me by it is much better.”

 

He realized he was rambling, but he couldn’t help it. When things got a little overwhelming, or he got a little too passionate, his response was always to talk.

Zim had grinned with the human’s flesh still between his teeth at the shout that it elicited from him. The cry was laced in pain. But he could smell the pleasure rolling off of the boy, the delicious aroma tangling sweetly with the smell of his blood. The Irken released his vice like bite as Dib began to speak, or more accurately plead, up at him. He ran his tongue along the wound, purring softly.

 

He had always loved the way that Dib’s blood tasted.

 

He had straightened up again, tracing the mark of his teeth on Dib’s chest with a satisfied smirk.

 

As Dib spoke, rambling in his ecstasy Zim raised an unamused brow at the stream of words. He was not truly irritated, but rather he knew that his cold demeanor had been one of the things Dib craved the most from him. He did not want to disappoint.  He let his eyes glaze over as if bored and meticulously ripped a wide strip of fabric from the human’s already tattered shirt.

 

When he paused for a breath Zim quickly shoved the fabric into Dib’s mouth, preventing any further chatter. He leaned close to his face, licking the boy’s cheek once before musing almost lovingly, “I think that this is much better. You do need to learn when to shut the fuck up, Dib.”

 

He grinned at his handiwork before sliding further down the human’s body, leaving a trail of bites along his chest, stomach and hips. Zim tugged his lover’s pants down a little further to expose the bones of his hips and the trail of hair that grew downward from his navel. He lightly kissed the skin there as he unbuttoned the dark jeans with nimble fingers and added, “You might be Tallest. But I have never liked being told what to do, Dib-stink.”

 

Dib moaned at the sting of Zim’s kiss and the pressure on the wound, each sound laced with both pain and pleasure, before his sounds were suddenly muffled by the fabric being shoved between his teeth. Okay—the shirt being ripped off was hot enough. He looked down at Zim as he crawled down the length of him, smirking through the balled-up fabric, his hands leaving Zim’s hips as he moved further down.

 

The human, of course, placed his hands above his head with a curious wiggle of his fingers, lacing them together near the wall. He didn’t have any bedposts to bind to—his shitty mattress was on the floor after all—but he was sure if Zim wanted to, he’d find a way.

 

“Mmph,” he mumbled, as if he were struggling to talk, letting his head fall back again, releasing muffled moans with each bite to his skin as he moved down, each kiss making him warmer, arching his hips into Zim’s fingers as he began unbuttoning his jeans. He knew Zim hated being told what to do. Where he liked to lose control, Zim craved it. The Irken had always desired domination, and if he wasn’t going to find it in the planet, it always came out in small ways with Dib.

 

Each time he was pinned to the ground, slammed roughly into the wall, or tossed onto the floor attempting to initiate some form of intimacy, made Dib’s heart race, and there was always that mischievous, commanding glint in Zim’s eyes. Not unlike now, the red far more magenta, glistening in the low light of the room, telling Dib everything he needed to know—

 

‘I own you, Dib-stink.’

 

It was all he needed.

 

Dib whined at the slow movements, squirming beneath his lover. The wait was torture.

 

The wait may have been torture for Dib, but it was all part of the game for Zim. It was akin to a cat playing with its prey, the thrill of the chase and the satisfaction of domination. He needed this, just as badly as Dib wanted it.

 

His title and his station had been ripped away from him. His empire had cast him aside. He had been made a fool for the whole of the universe to laugh at. He had been made a play thing for sadistic scientists.  But there was still power and control to be had for Zim, in the form of this human who placed him above all others, regardless of it all.

 

He knew that Dib would do literally anything that he demanded of him in that moment, whether it was to beg or to figuratively lick his boots. It made him feel powerful.

 

Dib’s torture was Zim’s ecstasy.

 

He finished unbuttoning the boy’s pants and pulled them off of his hips, letting his swollen member free from the constrictive materials. He wrapped his hand around the base of his shaft and began stroking gently, running the length once with his tongue before flicking his gaze up at the human and saying in a firm voice, “You will not move, you will not touch. Understood, Dib-stink?”

 

Mmmph!” Dib released a muffled, startled cry and adjusted himself up slightly, staring down in shock at Zim at the speed and effortlessness of removing his jeans, heat rising to his face as he blushed heavily. He was expecting Zim to free him from the too-tight denim, but not so suddenly. He’d had no time to prepare.

 

He let his head fall back onto the pillow, looking down at Zim again below the frame of his glasses, tightening the grip of his clenched hands above his head. At the gentle grip to his member, the movements, and then oh god the tongue— fuck — Dib squirmed, absently raising his hips into the touch, breaking the rule the moment, he’d heard it.

 

He knew it would be more difficult to sit still without bindings, especially considering the fact that he’d already disobeyed a direct order. The fabric in his mouth made it difficult to swallow, but he did so thickly. His throat was tender from the bruising from last time and from the scratches from this time. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to watch, or squeeze his eyes shut and try to keep himself still—he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it together if he kept seeing that look in Zim’s eyes. The commanding, powerful dominance practically oozed off of him.

 

Dib didn’t know how Zim did it. Each move was deliberate and practiced, steady and unfaltering, graceful and perfect. It truly was alien, and it was everything he had dreamed of for so many years. He practically reveled in the fact that he’d get to be Zim’s first— twice. It was his own little secret from Zim, one that made him stretch out his toes and adjust his hips again just to see what he would do; there had to be some sort of punishment for disobeying an order.

 

Zim could have laughed at the way that Dib bucked his hips upward, even the small bit of attention he was granting him seemingly too much for the boy to handle. His inability to simply keep still at the soft touches was adorable in its own way. Not that he had any intention of letting Dib know that he thought as much.

 

He had intended on letting the first one slide. Knowing that this was new and exciting for the human. It was a lot to ask of the boy, even if the command was simple. But when Dib shifted again Zim moved without warning, at lightning speed, shifting his head to the side and sunk his teeth firmly into Dib’s thigh. He bit down even harder than he had on the boy’s chest, leaving a perfect imprint of his teeth on the human’s skin. His satisfaction came in the form of Dib’s muffled shout.

 

When he released the bite, he glared up at the human and reiterated, “You will not move, my Tallest… Unless you want a far more intimate reminder of just how sharp my teeth are.”

 

At the threat Zim grinned wickedly before dipping his head back down to lick once again along the length of Dib’s shaft before taking the intriguing mushroom like tip into his mouth, his gaze never leaving the human’s face.

 

When he was in Skool and had found himself in a relationship with Dib he had made the effort to learn what it was that humans wanted and expected out of their romantic alliances. It was a line of search histories which he was not necessarily proud of.   But at the time they had seemed prudent, and as it turned out, it was not all that different than the trysts which Irkens had from time to time – though they were usually sworn to secrecy as to not be seen as defective.

 

The Irken let his tongue wind around the muscle in his mouth, sliding along the flesh in ways that a human could never manage with their far less evolved version.  He took the entirety of the muscle into his mouth, bobbing his head slowly along the length, doing his utmost to look impressive and at ease with the act, giving plenty of eye contact and purring softly through the motions, while simultaneously   internally commanding himself not to gag as the boy hit the back of his throat on several occasions.

 

He did not keep at it for long, only until the smell of Dib’s arousal was palpable, stronger than he had   ever smelled it. But Zim knew that he had not yet hit the human’s tolerance. He pulled away, giving the muscle one last lascivious lick before removing his attention from it entirely. The Irken pulled the boy’s jeans the rest of the way off of him, throwing them to the side before removing the loose boxers he wore and tossing them as well. He crawled back up Dib’s body, his shoulders shifting with predatory grace with each movement.  

 

As he straddled the boy’s waist Zim slowly straightened his back and brought his arms up over his head, taking his shirt with them, exposing his scarred chest and stomach. He teasingly rocked his hips against the human, causing delectable and deviant friction between them as arched a brow down at the boy and asked almost patronizingly, “Is this what my Tallest wants?”

 

Dib practically screamed at the bite to his thigh, the sound muffled from the t-shirt and his eyes clenching shut. It took every ounce of strength not to struggle, his whole-body tense, which only made the bite hurt all the more. It caused his member to twitch in response, already dripping with precum. It wasn’t all pain, however, and the blatant threat instilled a fear in Dib that made him flash his eyes back open at Zim with intrigue and just the slightest hint of terror, not doubting in the slightest that the Irken would follow through if he disobeyed–he would be writhing with desperation if he’d been allowed.

 

This thrill was everything he had dreamed of: the thinnest line drawn between pain and pleasure, fear and safety, dominance under Zim’s hands, played like a puppet on a string.

 

When Zim finally took him in his mouth, the sounds of pain gave way to only arousal. It didn’t block out the pain, per se, but muted it, sending an electrifying twinge through his body. He could still feel the sting in his bruises, bites and scratches: throat, chest, thigh. It gave a depth that he didn’t expect he would ever get to feel and to this point only had imagined.

 

Zim’s movements were true perfection. Dib looked down to watch in awe, a master at work somehow. Once he’d matured, and started to come to terms with his sexuality, that tongue had always made him crazy, whenever it slid from the Irken’s mouth in a lick of lips or on that evil little grin, it drove him wild.

Dib wanted nothing more than to cry out Zim’s name with each hit to the back of his throat, to arch his back into each movement, but the fact that he wasn’t allowed to move only made him hotter, brought him closer to the brink—until he stopped.

 

Against his better judgment, he wailed again, arching his back and squirming at the sudden lack and biting down hard on the fabric in his mouth, opening his eyes to glare daggers at his lover. The glare only lasted a second at best once Zim started to crawl back up in a smooth glide. At the friction, Dib growled his pleasure and rolled his head back, offering only a brisk nod in response, eyes wild. He’d moved again and was hoping that his mate both did and didn’t notice—he didn’t know which he wanted more.

 

Zim offered a grin in response to the eager nod. He let his claws drag lightly along Dib’s chest, only firm enough to remind the boy of the damage he could be doing if he wanted to. A soft purr left his lips as he focused his gaze downward, admiring the damage on his human’s body with no small measure of sadistic satisfaction, even if some of it had already been there beforehand.  It could not be helped, he had always thought that Dib looked the most attractive when he had been roughed up.

 

“If this is what Dib wants, he needs to behave. You will not move, you will not touch - until you are told to. Or Zim will stop,” the Irken cooed softly as he rolled his hips once again against the boy, as if   testing his resolve to see if he could get him to buck his hips upward or arch his back again. Another purr left his lips as his trembling and desperate lover managed to stay still enough to satisfy his power play. The Irken shifted his hips forward enough to allow him to take the boy into himself at a purposely agonizingly slow pace.

 

He brought his bottom lip between his teeth biting down to barely muffle the licentious mewling whine that left him as he adjusted to the feeling of Dib inside him. After a few moments Zim began to grind against the boy, moving his hips gracefully like a belly dancer in motion as he trailed his hands back up Dib’s chest. The alien chittered in pleasure, speeding his rhythm slightly as he wrapped his hands around Dib’s throat, just as the boy had asked of him. Giving a measured amount of pressure, Zim leaned forward, as if he were going to kiss him, but he only grabbed some of the fabric gag with his teeth, pulling out of Dib’s mouth as he straightened once again. While this game was fun, he did not actually want to stop the boy from breathing.

 

“Dib can grab my hands,” Zim said breathlessly as he moved against the human more quickly and increased the pressure of his grip, “if you need Zim to let go.”

 

Dib’s flesh had become marred with bruises, scratches, and bites, blood trickling from his chest and thigh into the mattress. He was hyperaware of every love-wound, each point of contact sending shivers directly up his spine.

 

He only nodded at Zim’s direction, eyes wide and watching his lover closely. He knew what was coming this time, moaning throatily at the roll of the Irken’s smooth hips, managing to keep himself still despite his desperate want to grab Zim’s hips and take him. His fingers clenched and unclenched above his head.

 

The moment Zim began to take him, pressing his hands into the wall above his head and releasing a deep, rumbling groan from his chest was all he could do not to take Zim the rest of the way with urgency, letting his love work the magic all on his own. Just like before, Zim was tight around his member, casting more lovely pressure and friction, but wet enough for him to slide inside easy enough. He whined for more movement, greedy, which the Irken also satisfied only a moment later, unconsciously rolling his hips to match as he sped up before he caught himself, a clawed hand around his throat.

 

Dib inhaled sharply at the removal of the fabric, giving himself just enough breath as the pressure increased, nodding at Zim’s instruction, eyes still wide open to watch every word slip from between Zim’s teeth, to watch every movement of his dancer’s hips. He could still breathe—but barely. As Zim continued to move, he continued to moan, pressing his knuckles and fingertips into the wall. There was no way Zim could ask him to be perfectly still, it was an impossibility.

 

His breath came in ragged gasps, mouth hanging open, and throat tender and stinging from both the bruising and the pressure. He wanted to tell Zim how beautiful he looked dominating him, how perfectly the control suited him. At this point, if Zim asked him to be a slave to him on Irk, he’d definitely agree. He continued to keep himself (mostly) still while Zim moved in rhythm on top of him, taking him deep and almost pulling back too far, teasing in itself.

 

Suddenly, a sharp heat flooded Dib’s abdomen and he clenched his hands together again, staring down at Zim with an expression of worry—he hoped Zim understood that it wasn’t danger, exactly–he’d have grabbed a wrist as instructed–simply a danger of this being over far too soon for either of them to be satisfied.

 

Zim chittered and mewled as he moved against the human, the green of his cheeks flushing to almost a deep emerald shade that made the spots of bubblegum pink freckles that had formed there in his early years on Earth all the more apparent.  His eyes had become half lidded and he had to practically pant to take in breath, his tongue subconsciously hanging between his teeth in a perfectly lewd display. 

And the way that Dib smelled, the exotic musk of human arousal filled his senses in a way that was all consuming and made him lust for the boy in ways he could not even describe, and luckily - didn’t need to. He knew beyond a doubt that his human would submit to him in any way that he demanded of him, allowing Zim to fulfill any fantasy he had, submitting to any kind of torture Zim had in store for him. And he would do so happily, with gusto befitting of the once Defender of Earth.

 

The look that Dib gave him, and the sudden shift in the boy’s natural perfumes was not lost on the Irken.

 

He slowed the pace of his shifting hips to the point that he was barely moving against the boy. He did not stop entirely, this was not done to deprive his lover, merely to allow him to calm down and prolong the experience. In exchange for the friction Zim increased his grip on Dib’s throat, purposely cutting off the flow of air entirely. He watched carefully, noting the red flush that steadily crept up Dib’s face from lack of oxygen. He did not maintain that level of pressure for long, just long enough that he knew they human’s vision would begin to tunnel, and his body would begin to fight against the lack of air. At that point he released the grip, allowing the boy to draw in a desperate breath.

 

Zim grinned as the color returned to Dib’s face, leaving ruddy traces on his tawny skin. The Irken dipped down to trail sweet, feather light kisses on the boy’s abused neck and jaw, finally pressing against his lips with a soft chitter. He pulled away, dragging his teeth lightly along Dib’s lower lip as he rocked his hips against his lover. When he was just a breath away Zim addressed the boy in a breathy whisper, “You may touch Zim now, my Tallest.”

 

The moment Zim slowed down and tightened his grip around Dib’s throat, successfully cutting off his oxygen supply, his heart rate began to drop and so did the chances of an utter disaster. Dib writhed his fingers together above his head as he subconsciously attempted to gasp for air but found himself unable to thanks to the Irken’s strong and tight grip. His vision slowly began to fade, giving him a head rush that was not by any means displeasing.

 

A person of Zim’s size and stature should not be as strong as he is—but Zim was so very many things that fueled Dib’s passion: strong, powerful, graceful. He had the body of a dancer and the prowess of an expert hunter. Despite his frame, everything about him was threatening, and Dib worshipped him for it.

 

The slow and careful movements were almost as pleasuring, but another shock ran through his system when he was suddenly allowed to breathe again, and he gulped in air in hard and fast gasps, panting heavily. His mouth was dry; he’d been absolutely ready to lose it—he leaned in to every touch and kiss despite the original order not to move, Zim’s expertise keeping him just gripping the edge of orgasm. He didn’t care about the rule at this point. He’d take the punishment given to him quite happily if it meant he could just move.

 

However, Dib didn’t have to. Once he’d received permission to touch him, his hands moved faster than he’d thought capable, the callused fingertips gripping onto Zim’s hips tightly before sliding with pressure along soft but scarred sides, along his shoulder blades, down his chest and abdomen to settle again on the peaks of his hips. His mouth had gone from desert-dry to an ocean, and he swallowed the saliva down with a heated rumble low in his chest.

 

Despite being proclaimed Tallest, he would show Zim what true reverence and worship felt like. He’d make his body an altar to their lovemaking.

 

He grinned wildly up at Zim, forcing him still for just a moment to stare heatedly into glorious cerise eyes. It was his turn.

 

Dib used his hands, stationed against Zim, to move the Irken himself into a rhythm, lifting his hips in pairing. Dib knew he could take him deeper and harder if he were the one moving, rocking his hips steadily to grind inside, matching the movements he made with too-large hands on too-lithe a body. His head fell back into the pillow, glasses tossed askew as he groaned. “Fuck, Zim, fuck —” now that Dib could speak, his voice came out an animalistic growl through clenched teeth.

 

Satisfied, now, that he could move his love with one hand, he used his right to match the movements of his hips; as he was moving out, he pulled the Irken forward just an inch, grinding back inside slow and deep. At the same time, his left hand made its way again up Zim’s chest, the touches just a little too soft, gently tilting Zim’s head back as he slid a rough thumb up his throat and along his jaw—thank God for his height and his long arms—gliding his thumb between Zim’s lips, before moving away again. With Zim’s head tilted back just so, he could reach around to caress one of the antennae, lacing it carefully between his fingers, running the pad of the now damp thumb along it, knowing it wouldn’t burn.

 

As he pulled Zim forward and shifted his position the tiniest amount, the touch to antenna paralleling the movement, the sound his love released was incredible.

 

Zim had tried to maintain the slow rhythm of his hips as Dib’s hands roamed his body possessively, soft chitters leaving his lips as he leaned into every new pressure, but when the boy grabbed him and held him fast the Irken stopped and returned the grin that was flashed up at him. The human had a look of mischief about him in that moment that made him appear years younger, even if he was a little worse for wear. When Dib gripped his hips and began pushing and pulling his body Zim relinquished his control and moved exactly as he was prompted to, letting the boy take him just as he pleased. As the human thrust into him the soft chitters falling from his lips morphed into breathy moans.

 

As Dib traced his hand along Zim’s chest the Irken arched his back to try to increase the pressure of the human’s fingers on his marred flesh. This human did not give into it, instead continuing up to his neck and jaw with the same excruciatingly gentle touch, tilting his head back as he moaned. He had not been anticipating the thumb being slipped into his mouth, but he accepted it and traced the pad of the finger with his tongue once. He savored the taste the salt and unique musk of the boy’s skin, mingled with acrid hints of nicotine and smoke but even the latter seemed to meld into the taste as if it were a natural part of his lover. Zim had closed his lips gently around the digit, sucking on it for just a moment before Dib removed it, leaving him once again with his mouth hanging open, panting as he was thoroughly fucked.

 

His eyes widened when Dib began to move his hand to the top of his head. The realization of the boy’s intentions dawning on him just a moment before the contact. He was not entirely surprised that Dib would want to touch his antenna during their coupling, all throughout Hi Skool, the entire time they were dating it had been a near constant battle to keep the human’s hands away from his feelers. Dib’s curiosity about them overpowering the logic that he knew he was about to get slapped for attempting it on a rather regular basis. Even though he had that split-second warning, he was not prepared for the sensation itself and let out a perfectly undignified yelp of the boy’s name as his body tensed in response.

 

As the fingers, moist with Irken saliva, ran along the length Zim chittered and mewled with abandon - his hands finding purchase on Dib’s sides as he tried to prevent his body from simply collapsing at the sensation. He could do nothing but submit to each movement, clinging to his lover and whine pathetically in his pure ecstasy as he gave in to each of Dib’s whims.

 

Dib practically purred himself when Zim said his name, continuing to rock with rhythm into Zim, his right hand tight on Zim’s hip. He continued his motions for a while longer, taking in every mewl and whine his love released and watching his expression closely. Even last time when he spent a good amount of time caressing Zim’s antennae with his mouth he didn’t react with such vigor —when suddenly, he got an idea.

 

Using his hand on Zim’s hip as support, and gently releasing the antenna in his hand, Dib shifted just enough to be able to pull himself into a seated position, tugging Zim closer to him and groaning loudly at the deep friction, eyes rolling back momentarily as he buried his face into Zim’s neck, kissing and nipping at the skin. He had to lift Zim again and adjust him once he was upright to ensure he could continue his motions without either of them losing balance, but once he did, the position and tightness of his lover meant that he could continue to grind steadily into him with far less movement of his hips, conserving a great deal of energy he just did not have any longer.

 

With a final bite to Zim’s throat, he used his free hand to tilt Zim’s head to the side, sliding his tongue carefully along the base of the opposite antenna. He didn’t want one to feel left out, after all. “Claws,” he growled, breath hot against the velvety appendage—now that Zim didn’t need to hold onto him to keep himself balanced, he could put those hands to good use.

 

Dib dragged his tongue slowly down the antenna, much like last time, ensuring that he was gentle and careful not to leave too much saliva on it. It wasn’t his intention to hurt Zim, and he doubted the Irken reacted to pain the same way he did. He purred against it, vibrations tracing down the length as he did so, “I’m all yours, Zim— fuck,” pause for a panting breath, a groan as he swore, he could feel Zim tighten around him, “I belong to you — ah, f-fuck —I love you.”

 

The pressure of Dib inside him was increased exponentially by the shift in position, which Dib managed without any real assistance from him, reeling as he was.  Even with Zim’s lack of assisting in the movement it was not hard for the human to move all eighty pounds of him with relative ease.

 

Once positioned squarely in Dib’s lap the Irken moved his legs to wrap around the back of the human as his neck was kissed and bit, drawing forth more inhuman chitters and mewls from him.

He did not resist the tilt of his head, not that he had the strength to even if he had wanted to. As Dib licked his antenna, Zim called out the boy’s name again, though he couldn’t say for certain if it was due to the lick or if it was because of Dib hitting a particularly delectable bundle of nerves deep inside him that he was unaware even existed until that moment. He did not need to be told to use his claws on the boy, because the moment that Dib hit that sweet spot within him his hands had surged forward to dig his claws into his lover’s shoulders.

 

The feeling of the boy taking him, the teasing of his antenna and the desperate words of devotion all combined into an all-consuming sensation that Zim thought may have been too much for him to handle. Pleasure so exquisite that it was painful began to form a white-hot knot in his gut that felt as if it were going to explode. All he could do was cling to his lover, panting and moaning as Dib moved into him relentlessly.

 

He tried to speak, to profess his dedication in return, but all that he could manage between his sounds of pleasure was a string of half formed, broken Irken. The pressure became unbearable, his eyes shut firmly, and he dug his claws into the boy even more firmly as he let out a shout of pleasure and climaxed, his body going limp in the human’s arms.

 

Dib groaned against the soft antenna when he hit what had to be his lover’s prostate—or the equivalent of—and he tightened his grip around Zim as the heat began to rebuild in him, as well. The tension only continued to build, and before long, Dib had to take his mouth away to bury his face in Zim’s chest, moaning into his skin, eyes squeezed shut tightly.

 

He vaguely recalled his glasses had fallen off somewhere—not that he needed them.

 

At the claws digging in his shoulders, and practically feeling Zim’s pleasure grow as they moved together, he whined pathetically. Shortly after his love climaxed, grinding for a few moments longer Dib came as well, moaning into Zim’s throat. He stayed still for just a while, before carefully plucking Zim off of him and tugging them both to lay down on the bed, nestling Zim in the crook of his arm with a deep breath.

 

With his complete inability to just shut the fuck up, Dib turned to Zim and kissed the top of his head sweetly, smiling against his skin. “That was amazing,” he murmured, squeezing Zim as close to him as possible and kissing him again. He tried to catch his breath, oxygen filling his lungs in deep gulps as he clung quite desperately to his love, not ready to let him go. There was still so much that needed to be done and said that he no longer had the energy for.

 

He laid there with Zim in silence for a few long minutes, placing sweet kisses to the top of Zim’s head and rubbing his upper back gently with the tips of his fingers. After a while, he glanced down–they were filthy –before a spark of curiosity ignited in Dib’s chest, he slid his free hand down, hoping Zim was watching, sliding his hand down his stomach to his abdomen, collecting some of the slick, slightly-sticky pink substance on his fingers and returning the hand to his mouth, tongue slipping between his teeth to lick it slowly off his fore and ring fingers.

 

He was unsurprised by the sweetness of it; strong like pure sugar, but he was surprised by the sharp and acidic–it stung his tongue like licking the end of a battery, or as if tasting battery acid. It wasn’t a bad taste by any means, but it startled him enough to begin rubbing his tongue against his teeth.

 

After he had climaxed, and Dib continued to thrust into him the Irken had to muffle his shouts by pressing his face firmly against the skin of the boy’s shoulder. His body had been left hypersensitive and each movement sent waves of pleasure through him that were almost unbearable, leaving him with a sense of gratitude when his partner had also reached his completion and he was moved to lay at his side instead.

 

Zim had let his eyes close as he nodded sleepily in response to Dib’s observation. He didn’t speak, instead savoring the feeling of the aftermath. He breathed deeply, taking in the smells of his lover’s sweat and skin, letting it comfort and soothe him. The warmth of Dib’s arm around him and the feeling of the gentle kisses between his antenna and on his brow brought a smile to his lips, the tender affection a large contrast to what they experienced just a moment ago but just as pleasant in its own special way.

 

The few minutes of simply laying together, enjoying a peaceful and comfortable silence between them was the most at peace he had felt in years. He did not open his eyes until he felt Dib shift his position slightly. The Irken lifted his eyelids slowly, watching with curiosity as Dib licked the mess off his fingers.

 

The slightly sour face he made brought an honest chuckle from him. He lifted a hand to caress the boy’s stubbly jaw and playfully cooed, “Humans are disgusting. I thought your species eventually grew out of the desire to put everything in their mouth.”

 

Dib shook his head with a slightly disgruntled expression before looking down at his love with a smirk of his own. “We definitely don’t. Gah,” he tugged Zim into him again with a squeeze, “it’s like licking a battery that’s been dipped in sugar water.” Not that he knew with any degree of certainty what human semen tasted like to begin with—he didn’t particularly have anything to compare it to.

 

Shivering in his own aftermath, he let the silence settle over them once again, not bothering to find or put his glasses back on in the darkness. He was comfortable, and warm, for once out of only a handful of times in the past six years. Having Zim here in his arms was exactly what he’d been missing. He didn’t take this time of gentleness for granted. He knew exactly what they would be looking forward to in the next few days—or sooner, depending. He also knew that they couldn’t stay here for long.

 

Unlike last time, Dib didn’t want to sleep; he’d rather get started as soon as possible, and he had a lot   he needed to tell Zim before they did so. Instead, he kept the Irken in his arms, forcing away the exhaustion as best as he could, his heart rate slowly dropping back down to normal. Unfortunately, as he calmed and got used to the comfort of his love breathing happily next to him, his nerves only began to bubble again as he thought about the coming conversation, rolling it around in his head, and the actions they were going to have to take to get off the planet alive. Doing so safely simply wasn’t an option.

 

Zim had let out a soft laugh at the human’s declaration, continuing the soft strokes on his cheek with the pad of his thumb. Even when he was pulled close, the Irken remained looking up at his lover’s face, studying every detail as if burning it into his memory as he mused contentedly, “I do have a rather impressive battery imbedded into my nervous system.”

 

This was what was supposed to be theirs. And it would have been if he had not been ripped away from it. He knew that if he had made it to Dib’s house that day, if he could have explained to him then what had happened, Dib would have forgiven him. They would have moved in together, found some spot that was just theirs. He would have rebuilt his base so that it was exactly what they wanted. They would fight and fuck, scream at each other and laugh together. They would have made a home, the first place that either of them felt truly accepted and understood.  

 

What they were left with wasn’t picturesque like what was in his mind. It wasn’t anywhere near ideal. He was a fugitive and he had dragged Dib into it. And he knew that Dib would follow him through the very worst of it. Battered, bruised and out of place in the whole of the universe. Neither of them belonging anywhere but with each other.

 

As he was gazing up at the boy, thinking his disgusting, sappy thoughts, Zim noted the bitter smell of the human’s anxiety beginning to build. Dib’s eyes had dimmed, getting a faraway look about them, his primitive mammalian brain obviously working quite hard. The Irken lifted himself up, propping his weight on an elbow to allow him to look down at the boy. He moved his hand up to the boy’s hair, stroking it softly, taking care not to hurt a peculiar scar by his ear.

 

“You went away for a moment there,” he cooed quietly. “Where did you go?”

 

Dib let out a small sound of surprise at Zim’s words. He was so lost in his head—and now his heart was pounding in his chest again, for a completely different reason. He looked down at the Irken, leaning in to kiss him gently on the lips before pulling back, allowing Zim’s hand in his hair only for a few moments. “I have to tell you something. Things. Plural. Uh—” he swallowed thickly, glancing to the side before kissing Zim again and gently untangling himself from his lover.

 

Dib slid down to the edge of the bed, grabbing his jeans that Zim had tugged off and pulling them back on before he sat down, feet flat on the floor, his elbows on his knees. Glasses still off, missing somewhere in the bed and the world blurry to him, he rubbed his temples. “It’s—it’s a long story, I guess, and you’re probably going to be angry. I know that, but we can’t—we can’t get started on getting you out of here, and we—we can’t be together like this,” he waved his hand absently between the two of them, “without being honest.”

 

He sighed, sitting up to stare up at the ceiling light fixture above him, hands clenching the edge of the mattress; it hadn’t been turned on in months—he usually used the lamp by the bed if he needed light—he wasn’t even sure if it worked. He didn’t turn to look at Zim, didn’t look for his glasses. He couldn’t bear to see his love’s face as he spoke.

 

“I—I’ll start at the beginning. Six years ago, we graduated. Once the ceremony was over, I asked you to move in with me. I’d had plans of doing a degree in astrophysics, and the university I wanted to go to has a paranormal society—I could have everything I wanted. You, the cryptozoology, space. Everything. Then you left. I didn’t know you’d been taken.

 

“After a few weeks, I assumed you went back to Irk. I checked your base and didn’t find any sign of you. So, God, I destroyed everything. Most of my equipment. Ripped everything off my walls. I resented you, for something I know now you didn’t want to do. I moved out and started college that fall. I did keep looking for you. I did. For two years I did everything I could think of.

 

“Two years. The day I decided to drop out, after one of my evening classes…” Dib trailed off, shaking his head and burying his face in his hands. “I just gave up on everything …including you. Someone approached me in the alley behind the science building. I bought cocaine from him. I overdosed. Woke up in the hospital—it’s the last time I saw my father.

 

“Since then I’ve just… gotten worse. I haven’t—I haven’t eaten a proper meal in weeks. I’m either awake for days at a time or sleeping for sixteen hours at a time. When I’m not high from the coke or the Oxy or the Dilaudid, or drunk—”

 

He stopped speaking, drawing in a jagged breath. Just like last time, it was hard to talk about. He’d never put it into perspective before the last few days, never admitted to himself how screwed up he’d become. When he spoke again, it was hardly a whisper, shoulders shaking and a hand over his mouth.

 

“When I’m not doing that, I’m tearing at my skin with the same razorblades I use to cut the coke, hiding the scars under tattoos, or vomiting in the bathroom until I’m coughing up blood. Today—was the first good day I’ve had in four years. I woke up happy, and—and before I saw you—I was happy because I was going to end it, I was going to jump from the balcony, so I wouldn’t have to do this anymore.”

 

He shook his head, running his hands through his hair and clenching the locks tightly. As he continued speaking, his heart rate continued to rise. “I gave up on you, and when I did, I gave up on me, too. I failed you every day. I know its bullshit, it’s all bullshit but I can’t stop. They’re all excuses so I don’t have to try, so I don’t have to think when it gets hard—I make myself numb so I don’t have to feel broken and when I’m sick of not feeling anything I’m doing whatever I can to hurt myself. It stopped being about you being gone. I don’t even know what it is anymore. I just know—I don’t deserve you anymore.”

 

Dib stood suddenly, shaking his head again roughly and tugging at his hair. “And now I’m sitting here, trying to justify my fucking damage knowing you’ve been to literal hell and back. What fucking right do I have ?!”

 

The Irken had smiled into the first kiss, but Dib’s words set him almost instantly on edge. A suspicious frown settled on his face by the time Dib kissed again and pulled away, ending their post coitus snuggling and tugged on his pants. The tone that Dib took on as he began to talk was heavy and foreboding, it did nothing to settle the alien who moved to slip on the dark boxer shorts he had been given.

 

As he moved to sit on the edge of the bed next to Dib while the boy unloaded six years of baggage onto him Zim saw a flash of lightning outside the sliding glass door and heard the aggressive rumble of thunder which made his heart speed up. He had not even noticed that it had started to rain heavily outside until now.

 

Between the weather outside and the horrific story that his lover was telling, the Irken began to feel like he couldn’t breathe, like the space around him seemed suddenly much smaller - too small. So Zim did what he always did when his feelings got too big for him to handle, he got mad instead.

 

He stood from the bed and moved to stand directly in front of the human, glaring down at him disapprovingly.  He wanted to slap the boy across the face, to scream at him he also wanted to throw himself into his arms and tell him that they would figure it all out together, that they were together now, and Dib could heal from this - that Zim would help him. Instead, he shoved the boy’s shoulder with a growl and hissed, “How is it possible that someone as smart as you can be so fucking stupid, Dib-thing?”

 

Zim fumed as he looked down at the boy, his eyes now a vicious crimson. His intimidating demeanor was deflated a bit as he stood there in nothing more than too large boxers that barely hung onto his hips. It did not stop him from still telling Dib exactly what he thought, one clawed finger pointing threateningly at the boy. “You have been destroying your body and wasting your mind. Even if I had left you of my own volition, this is not an acceptable reaction. We both heard what the Poop Dawg said about drugs, Dib. They are the ‘wiggity whack’ and you have let them poison you.”

 

The Irken let out a sigh, running his hands over his antenna in frustration before addressing the boy in an exasperated tone, “You are going to wean yourself off of them starting now.  You cannot ask me to willingly watch my mate delete himself.”

 

Zim dropped his hands to his sides, almost in defeat as he added, “Also, if I had left on my own, don’t you think that I would have packed up my base entirely? Why would I leave it behind?”

 

“You’re right,” Dib said, looking up at Zim briefly before looking away again. It didn’t take more than a second to see the hurt and anger in his love’s eyes, and he couldn’t keep looking. “I know you’re right. And you have every right to be angry about it. I’m not arguing with you on this. I want to stop, I do, I want to do everything I can to be better. I know it’s stupid—the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

 

He wasn’t surprised by the anger, or by the shove. He didn’t blame Zim for that, and he didn’t hear the compliment tucked delicately between harsh but honest words. At least this time he wasn’t snorting coke like a fiend in the bathroom and shattering his mirror. He wanted to reach out to Zim and hold him again. Squeeze him close. Make promises he wasn’t sure he was strong enough yet to keep.

 

“I know it’s stupid, and an unhealthy way to have reacted to you being gone. But once it started it just got worse. It was a cycle of hating myself for not being able to find you and convincing myself I was the reason you left, rationalizing my own idiotic behaviour and getting worse and worse. When I decided to kill myself, it wasn’t about you. I just couldn't— I can’t —wake up feeling that way anymore. I couldn’t keep going on making myself worse. I don’t know how to stop.”

 

“I’m sorry. You’re right to be angry. Of course, I thought about that, but there were no traces of you having been taken. GIR was gone. Some of your equipment. I didn’t know where to look. I—I know I didn’t do well enough in looking for you. I thought… I thought I’d scared you off at the prospect of commitment to me, and if you, someone who’s not even from this planet couldn’t stomach sticking around… nobody would. So, I became something that nobody would have wanted.”

 

Dib fidgeted absently, looking away from his love pathetically. If he could take it all away and start over—if he could go back and walk away from that dealer, he probably would have healed. He may have even started looking for Zim again one day. But there was no going back—at least, not that far, apparently. He didn’t know that at least a part of Zim’s reaction was caused by the weather. He didn’t know he was crying until it was too late to stop.

 

Zim had wanted to keep the white-hot ball of fury in his guts burning, fighting with Dib was the best way that he knew to suppress the other emotions that were riled within him. But Dib was not fighting him. He was agreeing with every insult, accusation and jab. And the Irken found it almost impossible to maintain his rage when tears started falling from his mate’s eyes.

 

The boy that sat below him was so broken. And those breaks were his fault. He had screwed this kid up so much, from the time that he was young that his life seemed worthless without Zim. Zim, who had rarely shown him kindness, who went out of his way to be cruel more often than not.  Even the passionate exchange they just had - Dib wanted to be hurt.  Because Zim had conditioned him to believe that is what he deserved, convinced him it was the only way to get affection from him.

 

He stepped forward, standing between Dib’s knees and wrapped his arms around the boy’s head, pulling him close. Even from his position sitting nearly flat on the floor, the human’s face was still pressed into Zim’s stomach. The Irken ignored the soft hiss as the boy’s tears made contact with his skin, simply tightening his grip in response. Zim let out a sigh after a few moments and pulled away enough to look down at his mate. “Zim will always want you, Dib. I am mad. Very mad. But I am mad because your life was supposed to be so much better than this. You deserve so much better than this.”

 

Zim pulled away and plucked the boy’s glasses from the bed where they had been discarded. He turned his attention back to the human and began wiping the tears from his face with his thumb, then slipped he boy’s glasses back on him, taking gentle care of the still healing wound on his head. The Irken visibly flinched at another crack of thunder outside before taking a steadying breath and tilting Dib’s chin up gently to look at him. He gave the boy a warm albeit slightly strained smile, “But it is not   too late. You are Zim’s Tallest now. My Tallest and my mate. You have my unwavering, slightly obsessive fealty and my disgusting sappy love. I swear myself to you, Dib. Zim will try every day to make all of it up to you.

 

“But Zim needs you to dedicate the same,” he added in a more serious tone, though the venom was completely gone from his voice. “Dedicate yourself to healing from this and leaving it behind. If you do that, Zim will give you the universe.”

 

Dib leaned into Zim as he was hugged but didn’t raise his arms to return the affection until he started speaking. He knew, logically, that Zim would always want him, always be his. But there was still a part of Dib that told him Zim would never want him again, not after this. There was so much he could have done with his life by now, instead he spiraled and ruined it all– everything always hurt.

 

Dib let out an almost dejected sound when Zim pulled away, only to return with a soft touch. Around every turn he was expecting a hard shove or a sharp smack, some insult or other words of abuse. He looked up at Zim as his head was tilted up, clearly now with the lenses, his own eyes tinted red from the sting of tears and his bout of substance abuse from earlier. He felt the flinch.

 

Thunder? It was pouring again. Of course, he shouldn’t have expected less. It did last time. He reached up and gripped Zim’s hand tightly, bringing it to his face and leaning into their joined hands.

 

“I swear, Zim. With every ounce of my being I want to do better. Get better. I’m human. I’m going to make mistakes and fuck it up somehow, but I know you. You’ll call me on it. Zim, I love you, just as obsessively, I might add. You don’t have anything to make up to me. It wasn’t your choice to leave.”

 

He glanced back at the window. “I want to sit here and hold you until the sun comes up, keep you safe with me here. Unfortunately, we don’t have time, and it isn’t safe here. We have to move.”

 

Zim’s smile was softer and sat more naturally on his features when Dib grabbed his hand and pressed his face into it. The human’s hand was much larger than his at this point, his was quite easily covered, enveloped in the warmth of the earthling’s skin.

 

He knew that Dib was speaking candidly with him. He wanted to change and to heal. He wanted to be the best he could be for Zim. There was a lot of damage to fix, on both sides of this equation. His mate didn’t see it that way, though. The fact that he felt there was nothing that Zim needed to make up to him spoke volumes about just how fucked up he was. The boy had suffered years of abuse at his hands but welcomed him back with open arms. The years had seemed to put the Irken on a pedestal for the boy, who didn’t seem to remember how toxic their dynamics were.

 

The Irken let out a soft sigh and leaned forward, letting his antenna settle in Dib’s hair, vibrating softly as he pressed their foreheads together with affection. Zim closed his eyes, allowing him to drink in the sensations of this moment, committing it to memory. He stole a brief kiss before straightening himself again and giving a nod and shifting his gaze back to the window nervously.

 

“I will need something a little more protective than your underwear if we are going outside in this,” after a moment he looked back down at the boy, backing up a step and pulling him to his feet. “Do you have a plan?”

 

Dib leaned into Zim’s forehead, enjoying the odd buzzing feeling of his antennae vibrating against his hair, humming in response to the soft touch. He kissed Zim back, hopeful for something just a little longer and deeper, until they were separated again and Zim was speaking and pulling him to his feet.

 

“I think I do. You have to trust me, though,” he said, glancing nervously at the window. “We won’t be safe here long, but I can run out and grab you some clothing and get us some food for the road. It should only take an hour.”

 

He pressed his knuckles gently under Zim’s jaw, lifting his head to look down into his eyes. “I’m gonna call Gaz on the way,” he said, immediately pulling away to find his shirt and sweater. He knew Zim wouldn’t like that. “Before you argue, she’s got the Takship I think. As much as we annoy her, she wouldn’t say anything to dad. That I can promise.”

 

Dib tugged the clothing on, shoving his now-socked feet into his boots before turning to Zim again with a deep breath. “We can commandeer a vehicle and get to hers. Grab the Takship. Get what we can from Dad’s and take off.”

 

He knew Zim would want to go to the Foundation. He wouldn’t be able to stop Zim, but he also wanted his love to come to that conclusion again on his own. He didn’t want to let on how much he remembered from last time.

 

The Irken had given a reluctant nod when Dib said that he could leave to get clothes and food. It was necessary for him to have a disguise and protection from the rain.  They needed to eat. But he did not like the thought of Dib being alone out there in the dark and rain when there were government men’s which had to be scouring the area.

 

His mate’s next words did nothing to ease the feelings of nervousness. The mention of Dib’s sister and father made his eyes widen. Before he could voice his concern, his lover had already turned away from him, began getting dressed and told him not to argue. He felt his throat go dry, his heart hammered in his chest, even he could not deny the way that his antennae perked up hopefully at the possibility of a Voot readily available for them. A better Voot, to be honest. Tak’s was not made from scrap and repurposed hardware.

 

Zim retrieved Dib’s old shirt from the floor and slipped it on. He took a steadying breath and wrapped an arm around himself, holding onto his own bicep nervously, “I can get some of your stuff packed so we can leave right when you get back. Do you have a computer? Any computer? I can see if my cameras are still functional at the Dib-House… to make sure we will not have any unwanted company.”

 

Dib turned back to Zim once he was fully dressed, tugging the hood on over his head. He smiled weakly at Zim, immediately recognizing the look of nerves on his love. The anxious posture, the smoothing of the clothes, the turning inward to himself for protection. His poor Irken love... He wished he could take all of that pain and trauma away; they’d heal their traumas together once they were free from Earth.

 

“Yeah, laptop should be on the balcony,” He said, slipping himself through doors he didn’t realize he’d left open, tugging the laptop in before closing and locking the doors. “Be careful near the windows.”

 

Dib placed the laptop on the table, away from the glass, before turning back to Zim anxiously. He stepped up to his love, pulling him into a tight embrace and kissing him between the antennae. “I love you,” he muttered, pulling from the hug to kiss Zim gently and quickly on the lips, his hands firm and tender on Zim’s arms. “And hey. Don’t be scared. I’m going to keep you safe. We’ll protect each other. I’m sure the rain washed away a lot of the blood and trail you left. Humans can’t track as well as aliens I’m sure,” he muttered, kissing Zim one final time before moving to the table, fishing around in the piles of paper next to the laptop before he found his prize.

 

A small clear zip-baggie, half-empty of its crystalline white powder. He hated doing this in front of Zim, but he did feel just slightly less like a fiend when he wasn’t hiding in the bathroom, snorting it out of rage, and shattering mirrors with his fist.

 

“I’m sorry for this. You’re gonna hate this but–I’m not going to hide this from you. I need to focus, I’m having a hard time thinking straight, and,” Dib laughed awkwardly, “I’m a little drowsy from the sex.”

It was always like ritual. Pour. Cut with a credit card–or anything vaguely firm and card-shaped.

 

Perfect lines, equal measure. Dib never mis-measured. Just two. A bill from the wallet, rolled to a straw between callused fingers. Lean in, sharp inhale, head back– bliss. Round two– energized bliss. Dib inhaled again, slow and deep this time. In through the nose, releasing it long and steadily through the mouth.

 

With that, he was ready.

 

It felt good to have Dib pull him in for that hug, the human was still much warmer than him, even with the coolness of his jacket. His arms easily surrounded the Irken, the kisses made him feel safe. Even when the boy pulled away, his big hands enveloping his arms, it made him believe those promises of protection in that moment.

 

When Dib moved away from him and began digging through the piles of junk on the table Zim shook his head to dispel the weak thoughts of nervousness that had crept back into him. He grabbed the laptop from where it was set down on the table opening it just as the human located his filthy drugs.

 

His curiosity kept him looking at the boy through his well-practiced routine, but the Irken turned away when Dib went for his second line, not wanting to watch any longer. He took the computer and went to sit next to the glass door, to the side where he would he out of sight from anyone looking from the building next to them and mumbled under his breath as he brought one of his own connections out of his PAK to attach to the device, “You are right. I do hate it.”

 

He let it drop at that, though his feelings of security and protection had dissipated entirely. How could Dib possibly protect him if he could not even protect himself from his own actions? He shook away the thought, knowing that Dib was trying to do the best he could under the circumstances. He resigned to his mate’s addiction and assured himself quietly that when they got off Earth, things would change. With that, he turned his attention to the screen as he hacked his way into his own computer interface.  He breathed a sigh of relief when the Invader insignia flickered to life with the familiar boot tones.

 

It did not take long to hack into the camera feeds that he had placed into Dib’s house all those years ago. It was a system he was intimately familiar with. He was already scanning the rooms in Dib’s childhood home by the time that the human had finished taking his drugs. He grit his teeth at the sound of exquisite pleasure his mate made as he released his breath, the sound filling the Irken with a simmering anger that anything other than him could elicit such a sound from the boy.

 

“It looks like the house is empty,” he mused quietly and flipped to another feed, “There might be something useful in the lab. Some of my equipment, perhaps. Though, at a glance I am not seeing anything pink… maybe my stuff is still in his office at the compound.”

 

Dib glanced over at Zim when he finally spoke, agreeing with him that he hated it. Honestly, Dib hated Zim seeing it. “I can keep it to myself next time if you’d rather not see, but I have a feeling that’d be bad for the both of us,” he muttered, raising a hand to his face and blocking one nostril to sniff through the other. He knew that if he had any distance from Zim, and the freedom to do drugs without him around, the issue would just perpetuate itself. Neither of them wanted that.

 

“We’ll definitely check the house. There could be some stuff in the lab, or maybe something left in my room. Although I doubt that, I ripped that room up pretty badly before I moved out…” Dib trailed off, turning away from Zim in his shame. Fuck, he couldn’t even recognize himself anymore. Since when would he have ever done a thing like that before?

 

Taking a slow and deep breath, Dib straightened himself up, rolling his shoulders back and sending a few cracks through his spine, doing the same with his neck. “Okay. I’m going to head out. I’ll be as quick as I can. I’ll get you some decent clothes and call Gaz on the way back. If we can get the Takship that’d help us out big time.”

 

Dib moved back toward where Zim was sitting, leaning down to kiss him once more. “You’ll be fine here. I have my cell phone, if you need anything it’s connected to the computer, so you should be able to figure out a way to contact me or get my location. Though I doubt you’ll need it. I love you,” Dib finalized the statement as he stood up, and made his way out, casting a final glance to his love as he left the apartment. “See you soon, babe.” Shut, lock with a click, and he was off.

 

Zim had given a firm shake of his head at the suggestion that Dib simply not do his drugs around Zim. It was a terrible idea. This was not something that could be left unchecked and at this point Dib needed someone to hold him accountable for his use. Out of sight would not mean out of mind and it would just open up the opportunity and mindset of hiding things from one another. He barely lifted his eyes from the screen as he quietly mumbled, “I said I hated it. I did not say to hide it.”

 

He nodded at the human’s assessment that it was not likely they would find much of use at his house. But there was a chance. Dib seemed rather unsure of the prospect, his doubt evident as he turned away from him as his train of thought tapered off. It felt bleak, these half-made plans and uncertainty.  A feeling that was only amplified by the anxiety that filled him when Dib proclaimed that he was leaving.

 

The kiss goodbye was much too short, and his mate was already slipping through the door before Zim was able to wrap his head around the fact that he was about to be alone in this unfamiliar, filthy room for an undetermined amount of time knowing that his lover was in the rain, equally alone, not to mention high and without any semblance of artillery.  

 

As the door shut and the lock clicked Zim scrambled to his feet and made the distance across the room in little more than a few heartbeats. The Irken pressed his face and palms against the plywood, his antenna straining to listen to the human’s movements as long as he could. The heavy, boot clad footfalls seemed to stop at the end of the hall and Zim could hear the sounds of the rickety elevator engaging. He listened intently, scarcely breathing until the elevator disengaged at the ground floor and he could no longer determine Dib’s location.

 

He then rushed across the room, turning off the small table lamp and plunging the apartment into darkness before making his way to the window, then the door where he tried to chance a glance of his mate through the downpour while keeping himself hidden, but there was nothing for it. It was likely that Dib had walked a different direction. The Irken let out a sigh as he slid down the wall, sitting on the dirty floor and holding his head in defeat.

 

Zim took a few deep breaths, trying to calm his pounding heart. He tucked his face into the collar of the shirt he wore. It had a general smell of disuse to it, but even years of being tucked in the back of a drawer could not erase all of the traces of his mate off of it. The smell was grounding, reminding him that he had a job to do while Dib was gone as well. He slowly got to his feet and made his way to the table, after a moment of digging he found a small container of thumbtacks which he promptly used to hang half-clean sheets and towels over the windows and sliding glass door.

 

The Irken wasted no time after that, he quickly rummaged through the apartment and packed away a few of Dib’s relatively clean outfits, drugs and spare computer parts into some of the duffle bags he found in the closet. He set them and the boy’s baseball bat down on the bed before returning to his spot at the window to try to solidify their plan.

 

The longer that he flipped through the camera feeds the less hopeful that he got.  There was the lingering and tentative hope that the scary sibling would have Takship. They couldn’t bank on it. They   needed a plan B.

 

Zim had flipped to the feeds in his own base, finding even fewer inspiring prospects. Nearly everything that was not literally part of the building had been taken. The building being intact was good. If he could get his hands on his communicator, they could collapse the base and take it with them.

 

With a sigh, knowing that Dib would likely be infuriated at him even thinking of something this dangerous, Zim accessed the information in his PAK from when the scientists had foolishly hooked it to their own computers futilely attempting to hack the data. It did not take him long to access the system and find his own files, including inventory.  

 

They had almost all of his personal items, including his communicator and his Voot. The Irken sighed heavily as he looked at the list and devised a plan B.

If Gaz did have Takship then the reality of the situation is that they should simply rob a convenience store for enough water and food to keep Dib alive for a couple months and then make a beeline to the next star system. Off of this ball of dirt, he could figure it out. Get them equipment and a ship that Dib could actually stand in… charge it to Skoodge’s credit. If time had not changed him too much, Skoodge would even be likely to do it happily if Zim simply let him know.

 

As Zim looked at the list again he let out an unhappy grumble. He hated the idea of the government mens keeping his stuff but getting Dib and himself off this rock was far more important.

 

He stood from his spot, carrying the laptop with one hand and swiping through the list with casual flicks of his finger as he made his way to the corner of the room that was the kitchen. Zim set the computer down on the counter and opened the fridge, rolling his eyes at the contents. Of course, the main bulk of it was beer. On the top shelf there was also a half a stick of butter. Something that was maybe at one point a bag of some kind of plant. Strangest among all of the contents, one that made him chuckle softly to himself, was a single red boot. He pulled the footwear out, examining it and shaking his head, wondering how high Dib had been when it wound up in there. Poking around behind the glass bottles he was able to find a couple cans of soda. Zim grabbed one and popped the top on it, sipping it as he searched amongst the litter for the other shoe.

 

He found it under the bathroom sink and continued chuckling affectionately as he packed them in the duffle bag to take with. The Irken took another look at the contents, giving a shrug as he decided that it was the best he could really do with what was available to him. His antenna perked up as he heard a small beep from the laptop. In a flash he was back in front of the screen, his eyes scanning for the disruption. A notification window let him know that the facility had started recording a new video in one of the labs.

 

His heart felt as though it was beating in this throat as he clicked the link.

 

[4022-A_Session_675]

 

When Dib got out of the lobby, he immediately veered left away from the building. He stuck mostly to the shadows, but the streets were relatively quiet this time of night anyway. Thankfully, the city was big enough that there should be a couple big box stores open late, and corner stores where he could get some cigarettes for the journey. He had about a fifteen-minute walk there, fifteen back, and around twenty minutes for the shopping.

 

Dib tugged out his cell on the way, unlit cigarette hanging from his lips as he selected his sister’s number and hit ‘call’. C’mon. Pick up.

 

“Gaz! Hey. It’s me. Yes I—” Dib tugged the phone away from his ear and closed one eye. “Yeah, I know how late it is. Look, do you—oh. What? You… okay. That’s uh. Good to know. Listen, do you still have the Takship? Excellent. We’ll be over later. Yes. I know it’s late Gaz, Jesus. We’ll see you later. Do not tell Dad.”

 

He shoved the phone in his pocket when he hung up, rolling his eyes. Gaz had always been a character, but thanks to her, this new discovery was something that he would have to look into once he and Zim were safe off the planet. The repetition—waking up like from a nightmare with a second chance to do it all over again. It reminded him of when he was a child, one of the few times he and Zim had worked together back then, when he had accidentally opened that Nightmare dimension in his head, where he could have been trapped forever. This was very different, true enough, but it was similar, and he knew, somehow it was connected.

 

Dib juggled these thoughts in his mind as he did the shopping—along with the idea of patricide, which he had to nix now, if he ever wanted to figure out what their father had actually done to them. He also knew, logically, his father was just doing his job, had no idea it was Zim, his boyfriend whom he had known for over ten years. The man may have been a scientific genius, but in all other ways, the man was an idiot. It didn’t stop him from at least wanting to break his jaw.

 

The clothing Dib bought for Zim were far simpler than he knew his love would want (all black), but he didn’t want anything flashy. They didn’t need to draw any unnecessary attention. Flexible maneuverable leggings, a shirt, sweater, raincoat, boots. He hoped they’d be good enough, but he didn’t want to waste time, even knowing that they were actually safe until sometime tomorrow night. He felt more rushed this time, more desperate, perhaps just desperate to get it right.

 

He stopped in front of the alcohol cooler for a brief moment. He had booze at home…that Zim would not want him drinking. With a defeated sigh, he added two to his list like last time. Finally, paste and snacks: Lofthouse cookies, of course, and a few other things they could pack with them. Bottled water. A couple packs of cigarettes. As Dib got outside, he chugged one of the beers and discarding the bottle in the bin the moment he got outside, before lighting a cigarette and opening the other as he began his walk back. He was already tried again. He’d built up a tolerance.

 

Dib was relieved when his building came into view. He picked up his pace, unlocking the door to the lobby and pressing the elevator button too many times. He chugged another third of the drink in his hand, realizing his smoke was still lit in his mouth, but shrugging it off as he exited the elevator on his floor and made only a few long strides to his apartment door, which he unlocked with shaking hands as a vein of lightning split the sky and thunder cracked through to follow, almost making him drop his keys.

 

When he stepped inside, his shoulders immediately dropped with relief seeing Zim in front of the laptop, the windows and door covered just like before, knowing that this time Zim must have been devising his plan for the federation. He didn’t want to be away from him that long ever again, his heart pounding in his chest anxiously. He opened his mouth, but wasn’t sure what to say, so instead took a long drag on his smoke before shutting and relocking the door, rain dripping from every surface of him. He was still shivering—not from the cold, but from the anxiety of their situation and at leaving Zim alone, and probably the beer was a bad idea. He took a few deep breaths before he finished his cigarette and turned back to Zim, trying to just be normal.

 

Something was on the screen. Tugging his jacket off and hanging it on the doorknob so it wouldn’t drip near Zim, he asked, “What’re you watching? One of the feeds?”

 

Zim had relocated himself and the laptop to the table, he had his legs tucked up to his chest, his toes gripping the edge of the wooden chair he sat on as he sketched out the layout of the base, he had filled seven pages with tactics and plans by the time that he heard the jingle of keys as the door was unlocked.

 

His body had tensed, prepared for a fight until he had seen that it was, in fact, his mate that walked through the doorway. He was dripping wet, but he was alive and back with him. The Irken took a moment longer to glance at his plans before plucking the book off the table and slipping off of the chair, taking a few tentative steps toward the human. “It is a video feed, yes. But it is not at the Dib-house.”

 

He held out the sketchbook for the human to take, keeping a breath of distance away due to the water on him. With his other hand he gestured to the screen as he elaborated in what was clearly a rehearsed explanation, “It is where they had kept Zim… I thought that they had torn him apart. It is GIR. They still have him. They are interrogating him.”

 

Zim turned away from his mate, pacing the floor as he continued more quickly, “I know that he is just a robot. He is insane and defective but so is Zim. I understand that it is unfair of me to ask you to do this. And you do not have to. I can do it on my own. But I cannot leave him. Not with them. Not with him.”

 

The Irken stopped at the table, looking down at the screen which he had to mute, but could not bring himself to turn off entirely. He knew he should be listening to what the robot was saying, but the sounds he had made as they scrambled his circuits for not replying as they wanted had been enough to make him feel as though he was going to vomit. He ran the tips of his fingers on the screen, as if trying to reassure the robot that he was coming for him then he turned back to his lover and finished, “It is a good plan. I can do this. I have to do this.”

 

Dib glanced down hesitantly at the sketchbook. He knew exactly what this was, and he knew he couldn’t let Zim do this alone. He also knew that he couldn’t say no, or the fool would go off on his own and get himself killed again. They had to work as a team. Partners.

 

Dib gingerly took the sketchbook from Zim’s hand, careful not to get water on him, placing it on the counter so he could flip through the plans properly, one-handed while he sipped the last of his beer. It really was a good plan—and if they had the Takship, it shouldn’t be too much of an issue, but it would be extremely dangerous. They could both easily get captured and killed if they weren’t careful.

 

But it was a good plan. Sighing, Dib turned to his mate with a weak smile, adjusting his glasses with the edge of the beer bottle. “This is a really good plan. If you’re sure it’s what you want to do, that you need to, I’m not going to let you do this alone. I’ll be right there with you. I’ve always got your back.”

 

Setting the now empty bottle on the counter, drying his hands off and tugging his slightly damp sleeves up to his forearms, glancing only momentarily down at the scars between his tattoos before he turned back to Zim, reaching out cautiously, allowing the other to come to him. The last thing he wanted was to be pushed away again, like he had so often all those years ago.

 

“I know I did a lot of failing the past six years, and I know that I should have done so much more to get you out of there. I’m going to make everything right. I understand that you need GIR, and I wouldn’t want you to leave him behind. Even I have a bit of a fondness for the little guy.” Dib wished, so desperately, that he could turn back time. Further than one night.

 

He wished he could return to the day Zim insulted him, grab his wrist and force him from walking away, ask him why he’d said no, rather than turning his own back in a fit of rage. He wished he could go back to the day he destroyed everything he owned, ripped down the photos of Zim, and moved out to go to school. He wished he could go back to the day he dropped out, that he stayed in school, that he never bought drugs from a stranger to overdose on. He wished he didn’t wake up in the hospital screaming at his father and ripping IVs out of his arms and immediately craving his next high. He wished he hadn’t given up. Every goddamn day he gave up more and more. He didn’t even know who he was anymore. He didn’t know how to just wake up without wanting to die.

 

Dib’s next breath shook when he released it. He needed a line. Desperately.

 

Zim had been prepared to have to defend this plan to Dib. He had been arguing with a mental version of the boy for the last thirty minutes, preparing his defenses on why this needed to happen. He did not need any of them though. His eyes widened slightly when his mate willingly agreed, not even for a moment questioning if it was worth it, not warning him about the dangers of it.  Simply trusting him and understanding his needs.  

 

He took a few steps forward, gingerly taking the boy’s hands in his, squeezing the digits softly as he looked up at his mate. His eyes had taken on those soft hues of amaranth, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and he replied with a breath of relief, “He was always rather fond of you as well, Marry… thank you.”

 

He knew that they did not have time to dawdle so the Irken simply raised the boy’s hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles lightly before taking a step back and moving to check the contents of the bags he had brought with him. It was easy to find the clothes which he quickly changed into, appreciating the way that the leggings hugged his form even if he was less pleased with the sweater. He slipped the sweater into the duffle bag and instead adjusted the shirt he wore, using a single claw to cut a line down the back of the fabric, large enough for him to adjust it around his PAK.

 

With the shirt secure and adjusted Zim put on the jacket. The length was meant for someone much taller than he was, but he did not mind the way that it hit just below his knee. The boots were simple, black, barely the whisper of a heel, and they only barely passed his ankles, but they would work for now. He wrapped a spare scarf from one of the piles of laundry on the floor around his neck to hide more of his skin.

 

He managed the whole ordeal in less than five minutes. Much quicker than the hour or so that he used to make Dib wait for him to get ready for Skool. He would spend an unnecessary amount of time meticulously sculpting his wig, drawing on his eyebrows and making sure that his flamboyant clothes fell perfectly on his frame before we would allow himself to be ushered out of the house.

 

The Irken did not even bother to check how the clothes looked as he pulled the hood over his head to hide is antennae and turned back to his mate. It occurred to him at that point that he was not entirely sure of their immediate plan before rescuing GIR. He moved to pack the computer and other items Dib had purchased into the bags and slung one over his shoulder as he asked, “Zim is ready. Are we going to the scary-sibling? Does she have the Voot?”

 

Dib relaxed into Zim’s gentle touch and the kiss to his knuckles, wishing they’d had more contact the moment the Irken pulled away from him. They did need to get going, though. Time was of the essence.

 

Quickly, Dib tugged his phone out and shot a text to Gaz to double check her address. It did take Zim far less time to get ready than he normally would, and he was sure that was because of their urgency in the situation. Zim was meticulous, and somewhat compulsive even. Dib had never been that way. It took him no time to get ready—any time he’d spent the night at Zim’s, he’d roll out of bed and be ready to go in five minutes, ten max. It was bizarre to see Zim prepare that quickly. His love didn’t look bad in all black, either—but he definitely would not have chosen it if he’d had more time. It just wasn’t him.

 

“Yeah. She’s got it. I haven’t been to her place, but she gave the address to me a few years back. It’s… Ah, there we go. Here,” Dib handed Zim the phone before scurrying into the bathroom to collect any other necessities he might need to bring with him.

 

“Actually, if you could use the phone to get the best route, that’d be great,” he called from the bathroom, “I have a feeling that if it was the Federation you escaped from, they’ve got their task force out and about looking for you. I’m sure it’s not every day they nab an alien.”

 

Dib grabbed his toothbrush from beside the sink, toothpaste as well. Deodorant. He opened the medicine cabinet—the mirror still broken, dropping pieces of glass into the sink as it moved—and stared into its contents for a long, hard moment. Dilaudid. OxyContin. Where did he even get those…? He recalled taking them on more than one occasion—god, especially the Oxy. He chewed his lip anxiously before tugging the bottle of OxyContin down from the shelf, shoving it deep into his pocket, exiting the room with his toiletries in hand.

 

“So, the plan? We grab a car, head right to Gaz’s place, avoiding any potential high-traffic areas or markers. Grab the Takship. Head—where? Will you be able to get us back there, where you came from?”

 

Zim took the phone from his mate, glancing at the address in relation to their current location. He studied the routes possible to them as Dib moved to get his essentials which Zim had not managed to pack. He moved to sit at the table, crossing one leg over the other, his foot bouncing anxiously as he plotted and mused to the human distractedly, “I imagine that they have housed right around four thousand twenty-one non-human beings. Though whether all of them were actually extraterrestrials is another question.”

 

It did not take him long to scout out the best route to Gaz’s place. As long as they did not have anything go awry, it should only take them about ten minutes. Once they found a vehicle, of course.

 

A loud clap of thunder tore through the sky and the Irken nearly dropped the phone. The sound reminded his of the downpour just outside the window. He stashed it in his pocket, shrugged off his jacket and t-shirt and made his way back to the shopping bags, pulling out one of the bottles of paste Dib had purchased. He knew they had to go, but he would not be much use to either of them with his skin melting. He did his best to cover his arms, head and chest with the substance, sorely missing his paste tub that had made this a very easy process. When Dib exited the bathroom to deposit his toiletries into the duffel bag the alien was in the process of trying to get as much of the skin of his back as he could manage.

 

“I can, yes. They had hooked Zim’s PAK to their computers to study it. That is how I accessed their system. Now I know where they are.” Zim let out a sigh, hoping he had managed to cover enough of himself to get through their walk in the rain. He could do a more thorough job when they got to Gaz’s and knew that they had a ship. The Irken waved his hands rapidly in front of his face and chest to dry the glue a bit before slipping his clothes back on.

 

He could feel the nerves starting to build in his spooch. The same way that they did every time he was about to do something dangerous. Normally he was able to take that feeling and let it fuel him, build it to excitement and reckless abandon.  It was different this time, though. He recognized immediately that the nerves were not just for him. He very rarely had a companion with him on foolhardy missions like this. Especially not one of flesh and blood. Dib would be with him and would need protection. It used to be that the only person that Dib would need to be protected from was himself.

 

Humans are so fragile.

 

He wanted to wrap Dib in bubble wrap. Protect him from the danger they were about to walk into. But he knew his mate well enough to know that the human would not stand for willingly being left behind. 

 

Because he wanted to protect Zim just as much.

 

When he was dressed, the bag back on his shoulder, he crossed the room to the human and grabbed one of his hands, craning his neck a bit to look up at him, “Dib-mate … What we are about to do will be very dangerous. But Zim will protect you. And when we get out of here, Dib and GIR and Zim - I will show you the universe. I will do everything in my power to give you the life that you have always deserved. I will show you amazing things.”

 

He took the human’s other hand and added, “I may not know all of the things that make up human love. I cannot promise to be perfect. But I do promise to give you the very best of Zim and I promise to learn to be the best mate I can be. You have my dedication and you have my trust. I love you. I have loved you for a very long time.”

 

Dib took Zim’s hands in his own, looking down at his love softly as he gave them a squeeze. He immediately wanted to throw up, the Oxy burning a hole in his pocket. It was rare for Zim to get sentimental, and to tell Dib how he really felt about anything. In fact, this may have been the first time Zim had been really honest and open about how he felt regarding their relationship. He wasn’t sure at what point they officially became mates, or what that really even meant, but Dib couldn’t hold back the warmth that flooded his chest at Zim’s words.

 

Untangling one hand from Zim’s, and also not enjoying the layer that the paste left on his love’s skin, he reached down to caress his love’s jaw, dragging the callused pad of his thumb across the smooth jaw. “Zim, I love you too. More than anything. I’ve loved you for a long time, too. My life without you was a nightmare. I did a lot of stupid and pathetic things. I want, more than anything, to spend the rest of my life travelling the universe with you. I want to relearn who I am. I want to get better. I want to show you that I am committed to getting better, I want to show you that I am committed to you. Eternally.”

 

Leaning down, he kissed Zim softly, taking his time for this moment of gentleness between them.

 

“We’ll have plenty of time to see and do amazing things together. For now, we’ve gotta get you safe,” Dib murmured, kissing Zim one final time on the jaw before he pulled back and straightened up, moving toward the bed to place the last of his items in the other duffel bag before throwing it over his shoulder, gripping the bat tightly, before grabbing the small pouch of cocaine off the table. Enough left for a line or two if he needed it, making sure his movements were visible to Zim, that his love saw what made his way from hand and into pocket. “We should head out now.”

 

Once he was satisfied that they had everything they needed, and that they’d taken as much time as he was willing to take on showing their affections for one another, Dib tugged his jacket back on while Zim did the same, letting his mate out the door first before following. He could feel the Oxy burning in his pocket, hyperaware of his movements and the sound they might make in the bottle. Zim’s words reverberated around his skull and he wanted to ditch them somewhere desperately. Gaz’s would be the best bet. He already knew he’d made a mistake.

 

Dib led them through the building and out to the street into the rain. While he kept a careful eye on Zim closely to ensure his own jacket and the paste held up, they again didn’t speak during the walk.

 

Tensions were high–Dib’s especially for a plethora of reasons. The drugs, his broken promise, his desperation to get this right this time, his unwillingness to watch Zim die again. He wasn’t sure he had the strength to do this again.

 

Once they reached the vehicle, sticking to the shadows and alleys, Dib let Zim take the wheel in getting the vehicle started. Dib fidgeted the whole time, his anxieties running high, moving his weight from one foot to the other. As is usual with stress or unknown situations–Dib talked. “We haven’t eaten. We should do that when we get to Gaz’s. Especially you.”

 

The kiss was far too short. Their preparations to leave were far too hasty. Zim wished that they had time to just be with one another. Time for him to simply be held by the human, to feel him. To be secure and safe for the first time in over half a decade. But he did not protest, following the boy’s lead out of the apartment and down to the street.

 

He kept his head down as they moved through the building, not wanting to be caught on any cameras leaving with Dib. Though truthfully, if there were cameras here, they would have definitely caught Dib running to the apartment in the first place, holding his battered and bloody body.

 

The Irken’s body tensed as they opened the main door and stepped into the night, the rain pouring. He kept his hands in his pockets to protect the exposed skin the best that he could, not wanting to risk the paste not holding up without reason, but he did press himself as close to Dib as he could manage as they walked. Not only because it made him feel safer. But because of the boy’s height, he blocked a bit of the rain.

 

By the time they had reached the van, his jacket was soaked. The paste seemed to be holding up barely, his skin was beginning to feel uncomfortably warm as if he had a sunburn from a hot summer day. Soft wisps of steam escaping from under his hood as he unlocked the vehicle and swapped out the plates. It did not take him long to climb into the vehicle and hotwire it.

 

When the engine roared to life, the Irken clambered into the passenger seat with a soft hiss of pain. The ten minutes it would take for them to get to Gaz’s seemed like it would be an eternity as the polluted rain on his clothes ate away at the protective layer of paste on him.

 

He pulled the phone out of his pocket, clenching his jaw tightly as the moisture hissed against his skin. His legs bounced anxiously as he read off directions to his mate.

 

As soon as Zim slipped into the vehicle, Dib was following. He chucked the duffel bag into the space behind the seats, along with the bat, before tugging the door shut quickly and quietly beside him. Same van as last time—but he was hopeful that if they followed a good route, which Zim was sure to have found, they’d get to Gaz’s without being seen and without having to worry. The Takship would make their lives far easier, too, when they inevitably get caught as his father’s.

 

Dib saw the steam coming off of Zim, and his shoulders tensed up immediately. Before shifting into gear, Dib flicked on the hot air and adjusted the vents to face to Zim. “This might help dry you off. If you’re still sizzly when we get to Gaz’s, we can get you some dry clothing. I’m sorry,” he muttered, placing a hand gently, for just a moment, on his love’s knee before he shifted into gear and got moving.

 

He couldn’t imagine what Zim was going through right now. Well, he could somewhat, but now that he’d experienced this once, it already felt like just going through the motions. However, Zim was stressed, and obviously a little scared, and soaking wet, and there was nothing more Dib could do.

 

Especially as their drive was only ten minutes, the hot air would only do so much. He did recall it stopped raining during the night—hopefully by the time they breach the Federation it will be mostly dry.

 

As Zim read him the directions, Dib clenched and unclenched the steering wheel much as before, concerned about Zim’s state, about what they would need at Gaz’s—food and a change of clothes for Zim, the Takship—Zim would also have to go through his plan again for the Federation…then off to his old home. He needed those photographs. What he needed more was to see Zim’s face as he picked them up, recalling memories of happier days–Days they would never have back.

 

Dib didn’t recognize the street they ended on, but he had Gaz’s address and her apartment number. He slowed down to a crawl, trying to see the numbers through the rain and the drops on his glasses that hadn’t quite dried. When he found it, he swung a little too quickly into the driveway. After he turned off the engine, he sat there for a few moments, staring at the building and gripping the wheel hard. He hadn’t seen her in forever. He released a shaky breath, feeling his pocket for the pouch of cocaine as a safety net. When he was ready, he turned to Zim.

“All set?”

 

It was all that Zim could do to keep his cool as they drove, the pinpricks of pain across his skin getting more intense as time ticked by. The heater did very little to ease the discomfort. The town was quiet, the streets almost empty. The quiet was almost more disquieting than the entourage he had been half expecting for them to fight their way through in the back of his mind.

 

It was like the calm before the storm, the illusion of serenity mocked their plight. They drove past darkened windows and manicured lawns, little homes where humans slept soundly. Regardless of his pain and his fear he could not help but to wonder if one of those homes might have belonged to them, had their lives not been ripped away so cruelly.

If he had been wiser, hid himself more carefully, would the two of them be behind one of those doors? Sleeping peacefully in a tangled embrace and content to stay there until morning. Would they be waking in a few hours’ time, wishing one another a groggy good morning over coffee and cocoa? Curling up on the couch and watching yet another rerun of Mysterious Mysteries. Would they be happy?

 

Zim was pulled from his introspection as they turned into the driveway of Gaz’s home. It was one of the only dwellings surrounding them that had a light in the window, barely visible around the drawn curtains. His heart sped up a little as Dib cut the engine. He had never gotten along with Dib’s sister. In fact, she was one of the few humans who actually scared him. He had always thought that she would make an excellent invader had she been Irken.

 

There was a certainty that time will have changed her as well, though he doubted as drastically as it had her brother. But not knowing what to expect was nerve wracking. His eyes had been locked on the window and he saw the curtain open just a crack as the human snuck a glance outside, possibly alerted by the sound of the van in the otherwise silent neighbourhood.

 

He turned his head toward his mate and gave him a brief nod before moving quickly to grab duffle bags and exit the vehicle. The rain still poured onto his head and even the few additional seconds between the van and the covered porch had undone any drying that the heater had accomplished. Dib had barely joined him on the porch and his knuckles had not even managed to rap on the door before it swung inward to allow them inside.

 

He rushed past the girl, steam wafting off of him as he did. He wasted no time in pulling the soaking jacket off of his body and tugging the wet t-shirt off, revealing his skin which had a surplus of angry looking red burns on it, much like a human who had spent far too much time in the sun. He dug through the duffle bag, grabbing one of Dib’s extra shirts to painfully scrub away the lingering moisture, caring very little in that moment for the interaction of the humans behind him.

 

Gaz had pulled open the door to let the pair in, her reserved demeanor quite the contrast to the unrest she felt inside. This morning has shaken her. She had not slept, it was her weekend and she had stayed up for a raid that her guild was performing in the early hours of morning. But there was something different about that night. Subtle instances of dejavu as she moved, as if she had done all of this before. The feeling had gotten so intense that she had cancelled her game, wondering if she was getting sick.

 

But then her brother called her.

 

She had not spoken to Dib in several years and had not seen him in even longer. Not since his overdose. She had given him a piece of her mind that day, screaming at him as he lay in that hospital bed, his eyes dull, giving him a look of death. She told him that she was not going to be involved in his prolonged and stupid suicide. He needed to just accept that Zim was gone and move on. He wasn’t worth it.

 

That fight had kept the silence between them for years. About two summers ago she had received a call from him. He was obviously drunk, and he cried at her pathetically over the line. While she had wanted to scream at him, the hollow sound of his voice had cut her. She may not have gotten along with Dib. He may have been the biggest idiot that she had ever seen. But he was her brother and she loved him. So, she had talked him through it that night. Stayed on the line with him until he had fallen asleep on the other end. At the end of that conversation she had the feeling that she would not hear from him again until the very end, when he finally gave up the fight.

 

When she saw his name on her caller ID, it had brought a surge of nervousness with it. And when she heard his voice on the other end she felt in that instant as if she had been hit by a truck. The memory of another call flooded her. She had turned on the news in the morning. She had seen Zim.

 

There were government agents surrounding him, tasers had latched onto him, rendering his PAK useless. She had seen one of them take the butt of his gun and smash it directly into the alien’s face, coming back covered in sickly neon pink blood. She remembered frantically calling Dib, over and over, practically screaming at the sound of his melancholy answering machine.

 

She remembered the fear in her, wondering if Dib had been with Zim. Not knowing if he was dead. The sound of him answering the phone finally and his horror as he discovered what had happened and the both of them watched the Irken die. The sound of the gun engaging rang in her ears. The echo of the blast and the sound of her brother’s weight hitting the floor as she had yelled at him.

 

It was so vivid. And in an instant, she knew it was real.

 

She shut the door behind her brother as quickly as she could and turned to him. Her eyes were heavily lidded as she glared at the both of them. She took the few steps between her and her older brother and punched him roughly on the shoulder for the trauma that two of them knew he had put her through. She addressed Dib, her tone low and dangerous. “You look like shit, Dib. I hope you know that I expect some fucking answers.”

 

When they walked through the door, Dib’s already high stress level skyrocketed. He wanted to leap around his sister and make sure that Zim was okay, especially once he saw the burns on his love’s skin, but he also wanted to grab Gaz and hug her for the first time— God, since they were kids. He inhaled sharply, trying to keep himself calm as he turned to Gaz, eyes wide and wild. It really had been so long.

 

The last time he saw her, she lost it at him while their father stood just in the doorway, hovering, silent, and stoic. She screamed at him—and he deserved it. He didn’t realize that in the moment. All he could think of from the moment his eyes opened was getting his next hit, finding the next high and riding that through until the day he died.

 

She said she wouldn’t stick around to watch him die. Yelled, more like. He told her to get the fuck out of his hospital room. When he was discharged, he left alone with a stolen bottle of Dilaudid in his pocket. It was the last time he’d used any sort of sleuthing skills before the other night. He wondered, briefly, what would have been different if he’d found Zim sooner, if he had kept trying. Maybe if he had thought logically about Zim’s disappearance before coming to a decision, he and Zim could be happy here, and he wouldn’t have completely destroyed what little relationship he and Gaz had together.

 

Would he have been able to continue life as normal if he’d followed Gaz’s advice in the hospital that day, accepting that Zim was gone? Not now, and what he knew now made his opinion of the situation far too biased. How could he have ever been happy while the light of his life was being tortured?

 

Dib didn’t know that then, but if he’d been smarter, he may have clued in. If he didn’t let his anger and hurt and depression tear down all of his cognitive skills. Now here he was, standing in front of her, looking as terrified and sickly as he felt—with no choice left but to escape—and there she was, snarling like any other day—but he knew her better than that. She had to have been scared, too. He’d killed himself.

She saw the news. She was on the phone.

 

Dib stared at her longer than he needed to, almost unfazed by the punch to his shoulder. He wanted, desperately, to reach out and hug her, to say he was sorry. If there was anything outside Zim’s return he was endlessly thankful for, it was that he had, somehow, against all odds, against his intent of suicide and his success at it, he was alive and he she wouldn’t have to watch from the sidelines as he killed himself slowly. He wanted to make it up to her but knew there was no way how. They didn’t have time. He and Zim had to get out, and they had to get out fast.

 

“Gaz… I honestly don’t know what to say,” he muttered, immediately shrinking into himself and fidgeting with the zipper on his damp jacket, glancing at Zim as if for support, but his mate was still drying himself off desperately.

 

When he looked up at her to start speaking, she was scowling at him, her arms crossed over her chest, shoulders tight, eyes narrowed. “Well, you better say something, Dib, and make it fast. I don’t have all night.”

 

He didn’t know what to say, there was so much that had happened, so in his usual vein of just talking too fucking much, he told her everything. “Zim and I need the Takship. You already knew that. Since last time, when you told me you had it—anyway. God I’m glad to hear you’ve been having the Déjà vu too…

 

Anyway, point is, Zim and I are going to Dad’s to take a look in the house for anything we can find. Then we’re going to the SCP Federation Headquarters to get GIR, we won’t leave him behind. Then we’re getting the fuck off this ball of dirt.” Dib glanced one more time at Zim before he grabbed Gaz’s sleeve, tugging her toward the living room and lowering his voice just slightly. “Dad has been working at the Federation. They are the ones that took Zim. He has no idea who m is—God—of course   he believes in aliens when he starts experimenting on my boyfriend.” Dib spat the last words venomously.

 

“You—” Dib sighed before he continued, averting his gaze to the floor. His fingers returned to his jacket, now fiddling with the high collar of the trench. “You know the rest. Or, a great deal of it anyway. I—I’m sorry for that. That you had to…”

 

Gaz looked Dib up and down, rolling her eyes more obviously than necessary. What an absolute idiot. “Do not even go there. You should be sorry for a lot of things, and you will pay for them. You can take the stupid Takship. I’ve been wanting it out of my garage for years. God, you are such a spaz. Glad to see at least that hasn’t changed.”

 

The shirt that he had grabbed to dry himself was scratchy Earthling material and it hurt to drag it across his burned skin. But the pain was not as bad as the sting of lingering polluted rainwater. While the Irken was distracted by his task, his antenna were perked, standing at full alert to listen to his mate speak to his scary sibling.

 

And Dib sounded just about as scared to speak to her as Zim thought was proportionally appropriate for the situation.   For the love of Irk, that girl scared the vlork out of him.

 

Once he was finally relatively free of moisture, he rummaged through the duffle bag and grabbed the, thankfully, dry sweater that Dib had purchased for him. He wished that he could have kept on the boy’s old t-shirt, having found it profoundly comforting, but with a sigh he slit the back with a sharp claw and slipped the black fabric over his head. Zim turned toward the humans, leaning against the wall, his arms folded loosely across his chest while his mate began verbally vomiting at the purple haired woman.

 

Zim’s antennae dropped in confusion as Dib began speaking about dejavu. He had not mentioned any kind of dejavu to him. The Irken’s eyes narrowed slightly as he caught the words ‘last time’. What the Irk did that even mean?

 

Zim was not good at being confused. It made him agitated and aggressive. Even now his grip on his own biceps was tightening, his eyes focusing on the carpet at Dib’s feet. Anger at his mate began simmering in his chest as he realized that Dib had been skirting around lies of omission. He was hiding something from him.

 

His head snapped upward when Dib brought up his father. Zim had tried to tell him that his father was involved. He had tried to break that news to him gently. But Dib had never given him the chance. He had never mentioned the name of the federation.

But Dib knew.

 

How long had he known that Zim was being held hostage? How long had he known that his father was involved in his torture? Why, if he knew that, why did he find Dib drunk and high in his tweaker pad of an apartment tonight? If Dib knew where the Takship was and knew where Zim was - why did the boy not even, try to get to him?

 

Why did he pretend he didn’t know earlier?

 

He focused on his lover’s face, watching his every expression as he spoke to the other human, as if some small tell would answer the questions that were now swirling in his head. His heart ached at the realization that Dib had not been honest with him. He had thought that things were different between them. He had thought that they had moved past dishonesty and secrets. That they were partners?

 

Whatever reassurance he was hoping for from his mate did not come, so consumed was the human with his vague and shrouded explanation to his sibling. The girl’s words barely registered to him as she snapped at his mate.

 

Before the boy had a chance to respond to her insult the Irken pushed himself off the wall and crossed the room, his arms still crossed firmly. He took a deep breath as he stood by the two of them, doing his best not to lose his cool.

 

“Dib-Mate,” he said the name slowly and as calmly as he could, but the venom of his voice was barely concealed by his mask of control. “Zim is in agreeance with the Dib-sister. You had better say something … And I would suggest you choose your words carefully.”

 

The Irken narrowed his eyes slightly, less in anger than it was in hurt. He took another breath and turned away from the human, addressing a rather terrifying painting of a pig instead, “Zim never told you that the Dib-father experimented on him. And I did not know the name of that organization until I hacked their system while you were gone. We had never discussed who they were. And… Zim needs you to elaborate on last time.”

 

Gaz had scoffed at the pet-name that the alien gave her brother, rolling her eyes at the sappy sentiment. The words that her brother’s ‘mate’ spoke with subdued anger perked her interest, one eye cracking open a bit wider, revealing her honey colored iris as she listened to the tiny green man speak. When he had finished, she turned her head back to Dib, gesturing at Zim with a jab of her thumb, “You mean to tell me that he doesn’t know that you assholes died?”

 

“Died!?” Zim turned on his heel, glaring at the girl incredulously, “Do not be stupid. Does Zim look dead to you, idiot child?”

 

She tilted her head toward the alien and growled, “I will let you get away with that this one time, Zim. Because you just died. But do not push your luck with me. I will destroy you.”

 

Zim’s blood red glare shifted from the girl to his mate and he snapped, “Explain. Now, Dib-Beast.”

 

Dib flinched the moment Zim started speaking, folding slightly into himself as his mate approached him with that look of hurt and anger in his eyes. It was never his intention to hurt Zim–he just thought it would be better, safer, and easier if Zim didn’t know. He didn’t want his love to know what terror they’d been through.

 

“Zim–” he started, but Gaz had interrupted him, and spilled the beans so thoroughly he felt like a dagger had been plunged into his chest, immediately leaving him gasping. His anxiety levels only continued to rise, and he felt like he was going to have a panic attack. He needed a drink, and a line – or four – or better yet one of the oxy burning through his pocket. The insult sent another dagger in twice as deep.

 

Taking as deep of a breath as he could to steady himself, he took Zim’s hand–unsurprised when the Irken practically hissed and yanked his hand back–and grabbed it again to guide his mate to the couch where he sat them down maybe a little too forcefully. “Just… hold any questions until the end, okay?” he asked, squeezing Zim’s hands in his own clammy, callused palms.

 

Fine. They wanted to know what was happening, they wanted an explanation, he’d start at the beginning.

 

“A few days ago–for me, anyway, I woke up intending to commit suicide. I was going to end it, so that–I don’t know. I didn’t know how to heal and how to get better, so I figured rather than continuing to hurt myself and my family and destroy the memory of you, I’d kill myself. Purposefully, rather than by OD or accident. Then I saw you burst through the trees and collapse in the parking lot. I ran down and brought you back up. You–told me everything you knew. You told me my dad was there. I smashed my hand into the mirror.” Here Zim showed him the knuckles on his hand and continued.

 

“Somewhere in there I scared you with the shower. You had a panic attack and attacked me,” he pointed to the hand-shaped bruise on his throat and the scratches on his jaw, “We fucked, I got you clothes, you had a plan to go to the Federation and I said no. We went to Dad’s, but we got caught, and chased down, and I got a bullet to the head.” He turned his head to show the bizarre scar Zim had caressed during their most recent lovemaking. “We found a cabin and I fell asleep. You left. Went to the federation alone. I woke up to Gaz calling me, shouting, telling me she had the ship, and–”

 

Dib stopped, snatching his hand away from Zim and clutching his chest. His heart broke all over again as he thought of it, pictured it, so clearly–the life draining from Zim’s eyes. His bloody jaw from the butt of the gun. Felt the tears dried to his own cheeks as he sat down and shot himself in the head, through the mouth, point-blank. White. It felt like he was having a heart attack.

 

“You died,” he whispered, “they captured you and removed your PAK. They had it all over the news. I watched–I… I watched you die, and then… I killed myself too.”

 

After a few moments of silence, Dib could feel the tears stinging his eyes and saw them drop down into his lap. He couldn’t look at Zim as he finished speaking. “I don’t know how or why. I don’t know why it’s just Gaz and I that remember. Maybe it has something to do with the cloning, or the Nightmare Dimension we went into once, but either way I… I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want you to know what happened. Maybe I just couldn’t live it again. Then I woke up this morning… to it all starting over. I tried to do better.”

 

The entire time Dib spoke, Gaz had moved closer to the two of them, her eyes narrowing more and more as she approached, hovering over the two with an angry glower and an aura of annoyance. “So, this stupid clone thing is responsible for making me relive this bullshit? Figures.” She purposefully ignored her brother’s tears and the expression on Zim’s face, quelling her own softness for her idiot brother’s damage. He was so broken. She’d lost him if not for good, it was still real.

 

Zim glared as his hands were taken, even after he had pulled them away from the human in defiance.  He was not happy about being pulled around and forced to sit on the overstuffed pink couch, but he needed the answers far more than he needed to defend his pride. When his mate had told him to hold his questions the Irken narrowed his eyes and quietly mouthed the word, “Fine.”

 

The story that the human told was outlandish. He nearly scoffed at the boy, shouted at him for lying to him. There were very few things Zim hated more than being lied to. But when Dib brought his hands close to him, practically doubling over in pure grief the alien’s doubt lessened drastically. Dib had never been a fantastic actor or liar. Seeing him shrink in sadness, crying over their deaths in this alternate timeline to which Zim was not privy was heartbreaking. And Zim believed him.

 

His antenna flattened against his skull, his eyes widened as he tried to process the information that was just thrown at him.

 

Stranger things had happened. Things like wormholes, time loops and alternate dimensions were well documented. He had messed around with them, himself. He could acutely remember toying with Dib’s timeline with the simple addition of rubber pigs. Something so small could wreak havoc on time. It was not outside the realms of possibility that one of their many misadventures had set all of this in motion.

 

The Irken had basically ignored the words of the scary sibling. But he could not help but agree that this situation was a bit of bullshit. Though, if he had failed so miserably that he and Dib had just died, he was grateful for the bullshit.

 

Zim reached out and took Dib’s hand, now being far more careful about the boy’s wounds than he had been. Seeing the vast amount of damage on the boy filled him with guilt, knowing that he had caused essentially all of it. For many moments he was silent, unsure of what to say, but finally he nodded and said, “Alright. Zim believes you.”

 

He brought the boy’s hand up to his lips and kissed the damaged knuckles lightly, ignoring the roll of the eyes that the small display of affection elicited from the female.

 

“This is okay, we can fix this,” the Irken brought one of his hands up to his chin and tapped it thoughtfully. After just a moment he stood, planting a quick kiss on his mate’s cheek before beginning to pace the room, his antenna twitching and his hands moving energetically as he talked through his thought process, “Already, just by being here we have altered the course of events. One small change can completely redirect the flow of time. And now that we are aware of our failings, we can make educated decisions. We have a ship now, that is another change for our benefit.

 

“And we already know what may be waiting for us, though it cannot be guaranteed since we have changed things. But we can skip unnecessary stops and dangers. Were we able to find anything of use at the Dib-house the last time? If not, we can just avoid it all together. We can prep the ship and just go get GIR.”

 

The Irken turned on his heel to look directly at the humans, both of them so much taller than he was, but that fact did not stop him from flashing a toothy grin at them. “This can be seen as a bit of a gift, if you will.”

 

“Easy for you to say,” the response came from the purple haired woman who glowered in his direction. “You don’t remember how fucked up this has been.”

Zim flashed her a wide smile and gestured to her with a brief finger gun before responding, “Right you are, scary-girl. Zim doesn’t remember it. So that means that Dib-Mate and I will be able to focus on healing your brother’s trauma when I have him sipping fruit drinks on the beach of an alien planet ten galaxies from here.”

 

“Dib- Mate?” she echoed flashing a rare, almost amused smile at her older brother. “How domestic.”

“Zim did not say he was domesticated, human. Dib-thing is Zim’s lover. Not my pet.” The response was spoken with clear seriousness and Zim was giving the girl a look that very clearly said that he felt irritated to have to explain this to someone so stupid.

 

Gaz had opened her mouth to speak but the words to express how idiotic the tiny green monster in front of her had failed her. After a moment she scoffed and replied, “Whatever you say, you little troglodyte.”

 

She turned to her brother, arms still folded across her chest. She blew a lock of her purple hair out of her eyes and asked, “So, I take it that you guys are not prepared to leave. Because that would be the smart thing to do and I know that is too much to ask of the two of you. You can raid my cupboard, I guess. Don’t you dare touch my wine though, Dib.”

 

Dib was honestly shocked when Zim finally took his hand, said he believed him, and kissed his knuckles gently. He sat on Gaz’s couch, completely dumbfounded, for a few moments before he stood and followed his pacing mate with his eyes, the shock still clear on his face. Zim believed him? It was always an awe for him to watch his love think and pace the way he did–watching the gears turn in his psychotic little head. He flushed and shook the thought off at Zim’s suggestion that they skip going back to their father’s.

 

“No!” He said abruptly, probably a little too harshly than he’d intended, shaking his head. “I mean, no. We have to go. We didn’t find much of use there, no, but. There are photographs. I’d rather not leave those behind.”

 

He wasn’t surprised when he was practically ignored at first, Zim and Gaz batting back and forth insults as if they hadn’t been separated for the past six years. Dib rolled his eyes and shoved his hands in his pockets, shoulders tensed. He balled one hand around the bottle of Oxy in his pocket. Healing his addiction on the beach of an alien planet far, far away did sound quite lovely. He should have tossed the bottle on the way to the car.

 

When Gaz turned to him, he was caught off guard. “I– hey. Yes, actually, we are. I think. We’ve got some food and water and some changes of clothes. Whatever you’re willing to offer, though, we’ll take,” Dib shrugged, making his way between the both of them and into the kitchen.

 

He didn’t see the roll of Gaz’s eyes and the way she stomped after him, arms high across her chest. He wasn’t sure what they had room for in their duffel bags, but if the Takship was in her garage, then they’d have plenty of storage space and wouldn’t have to carry anything unnecessary once they reached the Federation. Dib rooted around for anything they might need, his focus and the strain of retelling the story rendering him uncharacteristically silent. Anything Zim could eat, water, and anything else he could fit in the bags. He had his baseball bat, and that would do well enough. He was always pretty skilled with it.

 

Although he would very much like a gun.

 

“Are you done?” Gaz snapped, jarring Dib out of his gaze. She was scowling at him, eyes narrowed. Dib shrugged, glancing over to his mate in the living room.

 

The Irken was still pacing. With more or less purpose, he couldn’t be sure. He was plucking up video game figurines between two of his fingers, turning it around in the air before making a face and placing them back down. Dib watched as Zim got bored of this activity, turning on a heel to join Gaz and him in the kitchen.

 

“Show Zim what you have packed, Dib-thing,” the Irken muttered, and Dib rolled his eyes, leaning back against the counter and watching his mate fish through the duffel bags and continue to make sour expressions. He straightened up, zipping the bags closed. “Fine. It will have to do. Must we go to the Dib-house if there is nothing for us?”

 

Dib nodded. “Yes. I promise, you’re going to want those photos. We can land on the roof. It’ll give us a good vantage point.” He said nothing else, still disconcerted, a little off balance, desperately needing a line. He wouldn’t do it here, at Gaz’s. If he was going to die a second time, he could picture that’s how he’d go: strangled by his sister for snorting a line in her bathroom.

 

Zim sighed in response, but nodded as well, tossing a duffel bag over his shoulder. “If you insist, Dib-Mate. We will go.” He turned to Gaz, staring at her with disinterest. “Thank you for your help, scary human. Dib, we should leave. We do not want to waste our time.”

 

Gaz bristled at the Irken’s words, clenching her hands. “Whatever. Don’t get my brother killed. And Dib. Maybe for five fucking minutes, don’t be an idiot.” Insults slung, she turned and walked past Dib through the kitchen, and threw open the garage door. “The ship’s in there. Call me when you leave Earth.”

 

“Thank you, Gaz,” Dib said, squeezing her shoulder gently as he and Zim slipped by into the garage and toward the ship. Zim was beaming. It was a rare expression to see these days, and it returned a little bit of joy to Dib’s solemn demeanor. Maybe they could do this together. They’d get the photos, go get GIR from the federation, and get the hell off this planet and to somewhere safe.

 

“Zim is driving,” the Irken snapped Dib out of his lull as he climbed into the Takship, shoving the duffel bag he was carrying behind the seats. Gaz slammed the door closed as Dib climbed into the passenger side. Tight squeeze, but it’d do until they got something better. He did the same with his bag and watched as Zim gleefully started the ship’s engine and it revved into life. He messed around with the dashboard for a minute as Dib adjusted himself into the seat–

 

when he heard the distinct almost child-toy rattle of a pill bottle dropping to the floor. Dib stiffened with a sharp intake of breath, eyes wide and staring straight ahead, sitting stock-still, awaiting his mate’s reaction.

 

A ship. An honest to Irk Voot. While he never would have admitted it, the Runner was a much better ship than his Cruiser. Even with the makeshift repairs that the boy had given it through the years, it was still a formidable little vehicle.  After he announced that he would be driving, Zim opened the mechanical door of the garage and hopped inside the cockpit.

 

He adjusted the dashboard to his specifications while Dib tucked himself in as well. It was a bit of a tight fit for the human, the initial leg of their journey would not exactly be luxurious.  But there was enough room for them to manage.

 

He had grinned widely, turning to his mate to ask if he was ready to get this insanity started, when his attention was pulled to the bottle crashing to the floor. At first, he was confused, not understanding what it was or why Dib suddenly looked like a deer caught in headlights. He reached down and picked it up, opening the bottle and dumping the dozen or so pills into his hand and realization dawned on him.

 

He gripped the bottle tightly, eyes narrowing menacingly at the little white pills. Zim snarled once and closed his fist around the drugs, crushing them in his deceptively strong hand.  The Irken turned his hand over, unclenching his fist and letting the powder spill onto the floor of the ship. He tossed the bottle at his mate and revved the engine to life.

 

Without a single word the Runner shot forward and Zim immediately sent them high into the air, as fast as the ship would allow. He was going faster than he normally would, even being pursued. This was meant not only to get them away from the girl human’s home as quickly as possible, but also to scare the daylights out of his mate as a form of punishment for the betrayal he had committed. When they were high above the cloud line, Zim engaged the cloaking of the ship and set her to hover.

 

Now, nearly ten miles above Earth’s surface he turned to the human, folding his arms across his chest and glaring viciously.  With a sickened sneer the Irken demanded, “Explain this to Zim, Beast.”

Dib kept still as Zim crushed the pills in his hands and dropped the powder onto the floor, closing his eyes and clenching his teeth as the pill bottle was tossed into his shoulder and landed with a hollow clack onto the ship’s cool floor.

 

He was not, however, expecting the fast—and high—soar into the heavens. He didn’t have any sort of seatbelt on and was thrown harshly deep into the lightly padded seat, and he released a yelp when they lifted with a start off the ground, rocketed out of the open garage doors, and raced into the cover of clouds above the earth. He clenched the sides of the seat beneath him, eyes squeezed shut for a few moments longer after they finally stopped.

 

At Zim’s words, Dib flinched visibly, and, too scared to look his mate in the eye—and extremely nauseated from their fast flight—he slowly opened his eyes and took a deep breath. Hesitantly, and a little wobbly, he unclenched the seat cushion and began fidgeting, staring into his rough hands and the tattoos on them, slouched.

 

He had no excuses, and honestly, no worthwhile explanation. The insult, for once, was well worth it.

“I’m sorry, Zim,” Dib started, weakly, pathetically, although he knew deep in his chest there was no atoning for the betrayal he’d just thrown in his lover’s face. Failure, round—fuck. He’d honestly lost count by now. “I just—I saw them in the bathroom when—and I couldn’t—I didn’t think …” he trailed off, picking at his cuticles, the hanging bits of skin refusing to simply let go, like he couldn’t just let go.

 

The failure was stuck to him like the strips of flesh tearing from around his nails: too painful to rip off, but too annoying to leave alone.

 

“I don’t know what I was thinking. I thought maybe—it’d make things easier. I was scared of leaving Earth and not having anything with me, and what that could do, and—I should have—I should have talked to you. I didn’t. I’m sorry. Since we got in the car, I wished I’d tossed them or left them. I know I fucked up.”

 

He awaited Zim’s response with bated breath and a still-building sense of sickness in the pit of his stomach.

 

Zim watched the human as he spoke. The pathetic excuses not soothing him in the slightest. He wanted to remain angry, but that wasn’t the feeling inside him. He was hurt. He felt devastatingly sad   and betrayed. He attempted to continue glowering menacingly at his mate, but after only a few moments of Dib’s prattling, Zim lowered his eyes, looking intently at the empty space between them.

 

“Dib said he would not hide this from me. Dib said he would be honest … but you lied to me,” The Irken looked up, wiping away a small amount of moisture from his eyes on the sleeve of his sweater. The venom in his voice returned slightly as he spat in the human’s direction, “Everyone that has ever meant anything to Zim does nothing but lie to me.”

 

He turned back to the ship console, sending them forward again at a much calmer pace in the direction of the Dib-house. In a hollow voice the Irken stated quietly, “I guess Dib really is Tallest.”

 

When Zim’s words left his mouth, Dib’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. He felt like he wanted to be sick for an entirely different reason than their insane soar into the heavens. He looked over at Zim carefully. There was so much pain and disappointment in his eyes.

 

And it was all his fault.

 

Dib turned away again, not saying anything more as he looked in the opposite direction out the window. It was dark and rainy, and he couldn’t see much from their vantage point. Not that it mattered, anyway, the only thing he could think of was just how badly he’d hurt the one person he’d ever really loved, and who ever really loved him. The light of his life.

 

He’d never seen heartbreak so clearly on someone’s face before. He took a few deep, slow breaths, trying to calm himself. He wanted to keep apologizing, promise he’d do better, swear that he’d never do it again. He knew Zim would never believe him. Not now. Maybe never again. He’d broken Zim’s trust, and he’d have to prove that he deserved it back.

 

Words meant nothing now.

 

It didn’t take them long to reach his old house. Zim’s piloting was still expert–despite the trauma and breach in trust, his motions were calm and collected, and the ship glided down smoothly to settle on the roof without so much as a bounce or bump. Dib swallowed thickly as Zim flipped the engine back off and turned the cloaking on the ship.

 

“We… we only have a few minutes before the Task Force Operatives start showing up,” he muttered, his voice quiet and strained. His mouth was dry. He wanted a line, but more than anything, he wanted to turn back time. Start over again. Just once more, so he could really do better.

 

Fuck. He was such an idiot.

 

Zim remained silent on the flight other than the occasional sniff. But he kept his eyes forward, flying over the familiar patchwork landscape that was once his neighborhood, finally coming to a stop at the exact place he always had parked his Voot when visiting the Dib-house.

 

He nodded his understanding as his mate let him know that they were on a strict timeline for this particular leg of their mission. They climbed out of the runner in silence and Zim made his way to the edge of the roof nearest Dib’s old bedroom. He glanced over the edge of the building then turned to his mate and wrapped his arms around the human’s midsection, lifting him up as he engaged his PAK legs. In a matter of moments, he had carried the both of them over the edge and broke open the bedroom window.

 

The moment that they had safely entered the room Zim released his hold on his mate, stepping away from him and glancing around them. The room was nearly as he had remembered it except that all of the pictures of himself and his mate that had once covered the walls were strewn across the floor and there was a general sense of disarray. The Irken knew that these must be the pictures to which Dib had referred and bent down grabbing several of them without even really looking at him and placed them into the bag that was slung around his shoulder.

 

He moved about the room, trying to fight away his own sadness as he gathered their memories. Some crumpled and torn which he felt was rather apropos given the way that he currently felt. He turned and looked at his mate the sadness still evident in his voice as he tucked a few more pictures into the bag, “Are the pictures in here the only things that Dib requires?”

 

Dib watched Zim with a deep frown on his brow. His sadness and guilt were clear on his face, and he wasn’t sure if he could hide it if he tried. Taking a slow, shaking breath, he shook his head and plucked a photograph off the floor.

 

“Yeah. It’s all I needed,” he murmured quietly. All he wanted was for Zim to look at them. Maybe if he saw them, he could remember how happy they were once. Working, going to Skool, watching movies that the other party tended to hate, cuddling together on the couch.

 

He kept screwing up, over and over again. The dishonesty ran down to his bones, and Zim knew that–why couldn’t he just get it together? He glanced down at the photograph in his hands.

 

First day back after Christmas, grade twelve. He’d just gotten his college acceptance, and Zim had decided to start working two evenings a week at the little electronics shop in the mall.

 

‘I went and got my stupid job back. I got you flowers.’ The words rattled in his head. Twice now he’d heard them. Zim, even then, made an effort to repair the damage he’d caused. Why couldn’t Dib do the same? In the photo, Dib was holding onto his acceptance letter. Zim’s arms were around his neck, winking one lensed eye to the camera as he squished his face against his chest.

 

Gaz was in the background, smirking rather than scowling. Dad wasn’t in it. He was at work. He was always at work. Dib sighed softly, straightening up. Was there anything else he needed from the house?

 

No. What he did need was to stop being an untrustworthy prick. To actually make an effort, like he had promised.

 

Unfortunately, Dib knew he couldn’t act on his guilt now. He’d make up for the setbacks when they got off earth–if Zim still wanted him to come with.

 

“I love you,” he muttered, keeping his voice low. He saw the light outside through the window. Damn. They were fast. “We should go.”

The Irken nodded softly at the boy’s initial response. He was hyper aware of the way that Dib was watching him as he moved through the room, picking up each of the pictures. Dib had only managed to grab just the one, but it did not really matter - it wasn’t a large job to accomplish anyway. Soon enough he had grabbed each of them, leaving no trace of himself in the untidy room.

 

At the sound of his lover’s voice Zim turned. Dib looked just about as miserable as Zim felt. Even as he proclaimed his love, softly and timidly, the boy looked far more akin to a beaten dog than the Protector of Earth that Zim knew him to be. He had opened his mouth to speak, not that he knew what he was going to say but paused - his attention also drawn to the bedroom window.

 

The Irken quickly stepped up to the human, once again wrapping his arms around him - though this time he pressed his face into Dib’s chest, squeezing him tightly for a brief moment. He was hurt, he felt as if he was about to cry or maybe vomit. Dib had done nothing but deceive him since the moment that he had found him in the parking lot of the apartment. About the timeline, the drugs, and   who knows what else. But Dib was also his mate. The only person that Zim had ever loved.

 

And he was the only thing that Zim had left.

 

He did not have time to let the hug linger as long as it needed to. Their pursuers were likely already preparing to break into the house. So, without another word his spider like PAK legs erupted from their confines and he lifted the human once again in his tight grip. He let the human adjust his own grip with a simple warning of, “Three, two, one….”

 

With that the Irken launched the both of them out of the window, quickly pivoting to get them back onto the roof. The moment that his feet touched the rooftop Zim adjusted his PAK legs to form a shield at his back, putting both that and his own body between Dib and any attack from their exposed flank. With a single hand he activated the door of the runner, lifting the hatch. He heard the soft whistle of a gunshot, even with the silencer - but the sharp tinging sound of the ricochet on his metal legs was much clearer. He gave the human a shove up into the cockpit, clambering in after him.

 

He tried to hurry as quickly as he could, but to fit into the ship he had to retract his PAK legs, exposing himself for just a millisecond as the hull closed. Which was all that it took. He felt the white-hot sting of a bullet biting into the flesh of his shoulder. He let out a snarl, forcing the door the rest of the way shut.

 

Several more bullets could be heard hitting the window of the cruiser, not that they stood a chance against the glass. It was made to withstand photon missiles; puny human bullets were not going to do much.

 

The Irken let his body collapse in the seat, slumping limply against his mate. He pressed a slender hand against his shoulder to stem the flow of neon pink blood the best he could. Through snarled teeth he hissed, “Get us out of here, Dib.”

 

Dib wanted to be held longer than they had time for as well. However, he allowed Zim to pluck him up and lift him out the window, flinching as bullets began whizzing by. Dammit. Not again. He was hoping to avoid this in the next leg of their journey this time around. Alas and alack.

 

He did, however, notice the moment Zim got shot. Pink blood was seeping through Zim’s clothing. He didn’t realize how bright and thick his blood was until he could see it visibly over the black clothing.

 

“Shit. Fuck. Okay.” Dib immediately powered up the cruiser. It took him only a millisecond for muscle memory to take over, and for him to recall exactly how to pilot it. If he weren’t so stressed about Zim, he’d be more than excited to be piloting a ship again. It was enthralling. As nice as it was, however, his mate was bleeding in the opposite seat.

 

Dib took them off into the sky, setting on the cloaking mechanisms as soon as he had them stabilized. The ride up was a bit bumpy in his rush, but once they were airborne and the cloaking device up, Dib set them to hover. They could hit the Federation any time now that they were out of harm’s way. He doubted that they expected them to go back, and they’d never see them coming with the cloaking. Dib took a deep breath before reaching into the back.

 

“I’m going to patch you up before we go any further. It might not be worth the pain to take the bullet out. Did it go through, or is it still in your shoulder?” Dib asked hurriedly. What he needed to do first was stop the bleeding. If he still had the Oxy, he could stop the pain, too… but in the end he didn’t know how it would react with Zim, anyway. It was best. He tugged out the gauze from his bag. Most ships, he assumed, would be equipped with a first aid kit, too. He didn’t think to look.

 

“Is there a first aid kit in here? I might be able to disinfect and numb the wound. Are you okay?” Dib asked, grabbing Zim’s free hand. He wanted to throw up. This was too close to last time. He was not letting that happen again.

 

The jolts from their less than smooth flight caused Zim to wince in pain as he was forced against the seat of the runner from their forward momentum. He gripped his shoulder tightly as they sped upward, away from the government humans that had open fire on them, attempting to put some pressure on his wound. Even his claws digging into him did little in the way of stemming the flow of his neon blood.

 

It was a small relief when they evened out, hovering high above the planet, cloaked and protected. The pain was excruciating, but no more excruciating than what his daily life had become for the last six years. The bullet could not hold a candle to the pain of being bound and dropped into isolation tanks full of salt water. Zim was able to grit his teeth and bear through the pain, this did not bring him to shrieking and tears.

 

As his mate began speaking, asking him if the bullet was still lodged within him, the Irken rolled his shoulder once to check. Zim whined in pain and felt the obstruction grind against his shoulder blade. He collapsed once again on the seat and mumbled, “It… it is in Zim’s shoulder.”

 

Zim tried to glance into the back but had to abandon the movement and instead just directed through pained breaths, “If… if there is a kit… it will be beneath the storage panel behind Dib’s seat… But I do not know what Tak… or any of you humans have done in here.”

                                                      

Dib nodded anxiously to Zim’s words, twisting himself around in the seat as best as he could to reach the storage panel behind it. If the bullet caused that much pain when Zim moved, it was grinding against bone and needed to be removed. He was too tall for the Voot to begin with, so maneuvering himself around the small space was difficult, but he wasn’t thinking much about it—his mind was focused on the bright pink blood flowing steadily from Zim’s shoulder.

 

He could have cried out in relief when his hands felt a square plastic box, and he tugged out the first aid kit with a grin. He did keep Tak’s first aid kit—he had vague memories of either wanting to study it or thinking that the Irken supplies could come in handy if he ever needed them against—or for—Zim.

 

He fished through the supplies, humming when he found a pair of tweezers and some thick bandages, and a tube of something that he couldn’t read properly. There were still words and phrases he didn’t quite understand, that he couldn’t quite get a handle on. “Can you tell me what this is?” Dib asked, hoping it’d also work as a distraction, as he passed it to his mate and moved the clothing out of the way of Zim’s wound.

 

“This is gonna hurt,” he warned, pressing his fingers into the skin around the wound to see if he could feel where the bullet went. The way Zim tensed and whined under his touches gave him just enough direction. He took a deep breath, steadying his hand, using his other to open up the wound, and slipping the tweezers inside. It took a few seconds longer than he wanted to locate, but once the tweezers grasped the metal, he pulled it out and dropped it to the floor of the cruiser. The blood had begun to flow much more heavily.

 

Panic rushed through Dib’s entire central nervous system, and in a rush, he tore open the packages of bandages, glancing to Zim and hoping that the tube was either topical antiseptic or numbing cream.

 

Zim had reached a shaking hand out for the tube which Dib extended to him. He recognized it instantly as a topical antibiotic that was standard issue in Irken med kits. He had opened his mouth to say as much when his mate began working on extracting the bullet from his wound.

 

The Irken growled in pain at the intrusion of the tweezers as the human fished around for the foreign object in his shoulder. When Dib pulled it out and he began to bleed more freely Zim grabbed the wound with his hand and hissed fiercely at the boy. He was not aiming to attack the human or lash out, but he could not stop the primitive reaction to the intensity of the pain.

 

Zim reached the hand of his wounded arm toward the kit, fumbling as he grabbed what would look like nothing more than a nondescript metal cylinder to Dib. He removed his good hand from his shoulder and twisted the metal, half of which suddenly glowed red hot. Without a moment of hesitation, but with a blood curdling shout of pain, the Irken shoved the heated metal directly into his shoulder, cauterizing the wound and stemming the flow of blood.

 

The action filled the Runner with the smell of burnt Irken flesh, a smell like burnt sugar. He ripped the device from his shoulder and shut it down, the metal instantly cooled, and he dropped it back into the kit.

 

He let his head fall back against the Voot seat and took a few minutes for the waves of pain to somewhat subside. When he was able to once again think coherently, he picked up the tube Dib had handed to him earlier and offered it back to the human while muttering, “That… that is basically Neosporin.”

 

Dib watched almost in abject horror as Zim cauterized his own wound but recovered his composure quickly when Zim passed him the tube back. Basically Neosporin? It would do. Dib popped the cap on the tube and applied a generous amount to the wound before packing some gauze against it and bandaging it closed.

 

With the blood flow ceased, wound disinfected and cauterized, Dib slowly leaned himself back into his seat, facing toward Zim and breathing shakily. “That… that was a close one,” he murmured, absently raising a hand up to graze his fingers along the scar just above his ear. Just like before. They couldn’t have any closer calls like this--any closer and they’d be dead. Again.

 

Dib watched closely as Zim tried to compose himself, breathing heavily through his sharp, gritted teeth. “Should we stay here for a bit, let you rest? Or do you think we should go? They’re going to have their eyes peeled for us, but if we keep ourselves cloaked, we should be able to get right to the roof of the Federation,” he said, turning to the control panel and bringing up a map on screen to their next location. If they were quick, it should only take them a few minutes. They may have some time to spare if Zim needed to rest. It wouldn’t be light out for another few hours--but the cover of darkness would do nothing for them once they reached the Federation. He knew that their security would be heightened, and they’d have a hell of a time getting in.

 

“Did you happen to get schematics or the layout for the Federation?” Dib asked, but he knew if he needed to, he could hack their systems from the cruiser once they landed.

 

Zim tried his best to relax and allow his body to adjust to the pain he felt. But the adrenaline had begun to wear off, leaving the Irken in shock. Darkness crept around the edges of his vision and threatened to consume him entirely, but he shook his head and responded through slightly chattering teeth, “Z-Zim is fine. We d-do not have the time.”

 

He forced himself forward, turning with no small amount of pain to fish the sketchbook out of the duffle bag he had placed in the Voot earlier. He fought back a wave of nausea as he settled back into the seat and thumbed through the pages. His eyes were half lidded as he nodded toward the control panel and urged, “Thirty clicks North-East.”

 

With the direction out of the way he dug once again in the medical kit and unearthed a different metal tube which he pressed firmly against his neck. He pushed the end of it down with his thumb and the device emitted a small clicking sound as the needle hidden within it administered a small dose of pain medication to him. He only hoped it was not expired.

 

The medicine flooded him. It was unlike human pain medications that dulled the senses, but rather it heightened his natural senses while simply blocking the neural transmitters which allowed him to register the pain. When he looked at his mate again it was with wide eyed awareness with just a twinge of mania hidden in the crimson depths of his eyes, a look very similar to when the Irken had discovered Red Bull during High Skool. He nodded once and assured his mate, “I am fine. Let's go, Dib.”

 

Dib watched Zim first with worry--he was shaking and slurring his words slightly as he looked up their location--and then with surprise when Zim administered whatever it was that was in the needle. He shook his head, turning forward again as he guided the cruiser to the location.

 

“If you say so,” he muttered, steering the cruiser toward the Federation and inputting the coordinates. Once done, he let the ship do the rest and turned back to Zim. “I really am sorry,” he said, reaching out to carefully take Zim’s hand. “I shouldn’t have hidden that from you. I love you.”

 

With his newfound focus the Irken studied the maps he had drawn earlier. He lifted his head when Dib reached out and grabbed ahold of his hand. After just a moment he adjusted his claws in order to give the boy a gentle squeeze of reassurance. Zim brought his mate's hand up and pressed his lips against the knuckles before replying, “Dib has a problem. An addiction.  I know you love me. You are probably the only person in the universe that ever has.”

 

Zim glanced out the window of the Voot, watching the stars streaking overhead as they made their way to the final destination they had before they could be done with this nightmarish planet and all that it held. As he looked up at the stars he smiled softly, knowing that in a mere matter of time they would be sailing among them. He glanced back at the human and continued, his voice stern but loving, “You cannot lie to me anymore, Dib-thing. It is a dangerous universe. If I am going to be able to keep you safe, I need you to be honest with me always. I love you.  You are my mate. But we cannot have lies or this will not work.”

 

Dib watched out the window as well but turned his head as Zim began to speak to him. He listened attentively, releasing a soft sigh as he continued to hold Zim’s hand. “I know that. I do. I know I’m not going to get better if I lie to you, and I know how likely it is I’m going to get myself in trouble out there at some point,” he offered a weak smile, glancing up into the dark, starry sky above them.

 

Very soon, indeed. They’d be off this hell-hole and together, travelling the universe like they’d intended. Suddenly, a tall and massive building came into focus beneath them and he released Zim’s hand with a tense expression on his face. He’d never actually seen the building before. It took them less time to arrive than he’d hoped.

 

“Speaking of not lying,” Dib muttered, reaching behind the seat to unzip one of the duffle bags, feeling around for the substance he would need if he was going to be able to focus at all in there. He tugged out one of the small pouches and showed it to Zim. “No hiding, and as much as I want to be on my best behaviour, I need to be able to kick ass in there, and not be hankering for something,” he said, palming the pouch as he steered their still-cloaked cruiser to the roof of the Federation, landing it gently.

 

He was well-aware of the fact that the Federation goons would think Zim either had an accomplice or a hostage, and they’d be on full alert. However, it didn’t seem like they were concerned about the roof of the building--he saw no signs of cameras or potential alarms, and their cloaking did wonders. They probably wouldn’t expect the pair to return to the Federation after all this.

 

Zim straightened himself in the seat to take in the sight of the building. He felt himself nearing panic at the realization that he was actually willingly heading back into this abhorrent building. Back into this evil place where he was subjected to behaviour so cruel that even the staunchest of Irkens would have turned their head in disgust.

 

But his choices were to go back in or to leave GIR in the hands of those same men.

 

Really, there was no other choice.

 

He breathed deeply to steady himself as Dib landed them on the roof of the complex. When they were parked, but still covered by their cloaking, Zim turned once again to his mate and handed him the schematics he had drawn, “First, I need you to commit these to memory in case we get separated.”

 

In the moment that the human was distracted with the object in his hands the Irken grabbed the canister of pain medicine once more and with a lightning quick movement pressed it into the boy's neck. He dropped the canister into the field kit and snatched the packet of cocaine from him.

 

Zim set the drugs inside the kit and closed it, making sure the human saw what he did with them. He smiled up at the boy and replied, “I need you to have your wits about you. You can have your drugs when we are on our way to the next solar system, Dib-love.”

 

Dib took the hand-drawn schematics, looking down at them with narrowed eyes. He looked over them closely, and began to say, “We are not going to get sepa--” but was cut off when Zim grabbed a hold of him and pressed the canister into his neck, eliciting a shout as the needle jabbed into his skin and dispensed the medicine.

 

His eyes snapped open and he turned to Zim, an odd look of shock and foolish betrayal on his face--foolish because he immediately saw Zim snatching the pouch of cocaine and adding it to the kit before closing it, and a laugh tugged at the corners of his lips which he attempted to hide. “That was sneaky,” he said, but felt instantly calmer. It seemed to steady his pulse and his lust for the narcotic was quelled--but he had just as much energy as he would if he’d taken the other substance.

 

“Well,” he said, looking once more down at the schematics and committing them as much to memory as possible, “I suppose we’ve got a job to do, huh? Do we know where they’re keeping GIR? We have to get to GIR and back up here as fast as possible.”

 

The Irken returned the human's smile as he stored the medical kit back behind the seat and turned his attention to the schematics.  He had drawn them in levels, so he was able to demonstrate their whole path heading down into the lower levels.

 

“There is a roof access to the stairs right here. Zim and GIR were kept on the sixth-floor underground,” he got to the page that showed the sixth floor and traced the path with his finger. “Zim was able to hack into their security this morning and I made security clearance codes for myself, Irk willing, they will still be active, and we can get to that level undetected. The containment units should be easy enough to open with my PAK functioning.”

 

He looked up at his mate and gave a shrug, “I think that is about as far as we can hope to get without our presence being noted. It will likely be a fight on the way out. Hopefully we can get our hands on some guns along the way and I certainly hope GIR's weapons systems are still online.”

 

He adjusted himself in the seat onto his knees and pressed a kiss to Dib's cheek before letting out a slightly shaky breath. Zim shook his head to dispel the nerves and assured, “We are almost there, Dib-Mate. I cannot wait to get you off this rock.”

 

Dib listened carefully to Zim’s instructions, watching the route Zim outlined closely on the paper, taking a moment to flip through it again himself as Zim continued to speak. Once done he nodded, leaning into the kiss to his cheek. “I can’t wait, either,” he said, rolling up the papers into a tight tube and tucking them into the inside pocket of his trench--they hit something firm and he frowned, tucking his hand inside--his eyes widened momentarily before he regained his composure.

 

“Okay, then. Let’s get this show on the road,” he said, giving his knuckles and neck a few solid pops and stepping out of the Voot, but not before grabbing his baseball bat from behind the seat. He also grabbed the first aid kit--digging through to grab a handful of bandages and gauze, shoving them deep into his pocket, before locking the case again and returning it to its spot behind his seat. “Just in case,” he shrugged, spinning the baseball bat around in his hand to adjust to his grip.

 

Once he was sure Zim was following, he headed to the entrance Zim had mentioned and gently tugged on the door--locked, of course. He fished into the pockets of his jeans and tugged out his keychain. After all of his time sneaking around town looking for cryptids, breaking into his father’s work for supplies, and creeping into Zim’s lab, he’d become pretty adept at picking locks. Once the latch clicked, he tugged the door open with a wink to his mate. “After you, babe.”

 

Zim stepped out of the Voot as his mate did the same and prepared himself for whatever firefight they might be walking into. The Irken took just a moment to shrug his still slightly damp jacket back on to cover the tear in his sweater and the exposed bullet wound before jogging across the roof to catch up with the human. He paused behind the much taller figure, watching the boy nimbly adjust the tumbler system of the door that barred their entrance. Zim smiled as he heard the telltale click, he was actually impressed by the way that Dib made quick work of the lock. But then, his mate had always been quite adept at these parts of covert operations, in no small measure because of his own defensive systems which the boy learned to navigate since his youth.

 

When the door was opened the alien slipped inside ahead of the human, wanting to put himself between his mate and any danger that may come their way. He was alert, aware and on his toes as they made their way deeper into the compound. Adrenaline coursed through him, knowing that every step lead them further from their safety and escape and closer to unknown perils. But he also could not shake the minimal degree of excitement that stirred within him at the thought.

 

Reckless adventure was where Zim thrived, excelled. And the only thing that typically stood in his way of victory was the boy that was just a step behind him, here not to thwart him, but instead as his partner in crime. With Dib on his side, even with the both of them battered, bruised and a little worse for wear - he was convinced that there was very little that could cause them to fail.

 

The six flights of stairs seemed to take both an eternity and only a matter of seconds to traverse. Thankfully, they had managed to get to the floor where he had been held for over half a decade without encountering a single soul. The Irken paused at the heavy metal security door and took just a moment to examine the security pad. Hopefully, the clearance that he had snuck into the compound's databases would function as he intended.

 

He took just a moment to glance back at the human and spoke in little more than a whisper, though he knew that the boy would not miss a single word, “This is it. Past this door we need to head straight down the hallway to the end. Then it is a left, the second right and one more left. GIR should be in the containment unit there.”

 

Zim reached out to take the human's fingers in his hand, giving them a gentle squeeze, “Stay close to me, Dib-mate.” With his free hand he input his security code, scarcely daring to breathe until he heard the door unlock for them, unaccompanied by any alarms. He grabbed the handle and turned it as he muttered back to his partner, “Let us do this.”

 

Dib watched Zim closely as they made their way deep into the confines of the Federation building. The deeper they went, the hallways actually seemed to widen, and their path to the security door was a fairly straight shot. He watched Zim test the door with his breath caught in his chest, not realizing he had been holding it until the door unlocked, and no alarms were sounded. He nodded to Zim and immediately followed close behind as they entered the hall.

 

Dib refused to speak more once they entered the hallway, looking up and immediately spotting the security cameras--three down the hallway. They’d definitely get spotted if they moved another inch. He reached out, snatching Zim’s shoulder, tugging him back into his chest and holding him in place. Silently, he pointed to the three cameras and glanced back down at Zim. If Zim could reach the first camera without being seen, there would be a chance he could disconnect all of them. He had a feeling it was mainly all or nothing, though, and while they wouldn’t be seen, attention would definitely be drawn to their presence on the floor.

 

Zim had been prepared to dart down the hallway with the human on his heels but did not resist when he was pulled back, although he did eye his mate curiously. The Irken carefully followed the motions the human made with his extended index finger. He nodded once to demonstrate his understanding and gave the arm around him a reassuring squeeze. Zim pushed Dib back gently, just enough that he was able to engage his PAK legs without them jabbing into the boy.

 

Once they were out the Irken quickly scaled the door frame and moved with spider like grace across the ceiling to the first camera. An additional metal appendage revealed itself and Zim hooked himself to the camera system. His normally vivid crimson eyes seemed to take on the look of fuzzy static for a few moments as he disabled the whole of the surveillance network.

 

Zim unhooked himself and dropped down from the ceiling, landing in a crouch before straightening himself up and smirking at the human. He nodded down the hallway, gesturing with his claw for Dib to follow him. He knew that disabling the whole network would alert the humans to something being amiss, but it was better than only downing the cameras on this level which would lead them directly to their location.

 

Hopefully this would not be the first place they ran a security sweep.

 

He ran along the hallway; the only sounds were his and Dib's footfalls echoing in the otherwise empty corridors. Left, second right, another left. The entire way, not a single member of staff. He glanced around nervously, realizing now that this had been easy. Far too easy, in fact. The entire time that he had been here these halls had been crawling with scientists.

 

The Irken reached to the human, taking his hand which was not holding onto the baseball bat and pulled him along, bringing his other hand up to his lips in a shushing gesture. Zim moved far more slowly along the last stretch of hallway, pausing beside each containment unit to glance inside, anticipating an ambush of some sort.

 

The Irken slowed his steps further as they approached the containment unit that had housed him for six years. He glanced inside looking past the glass door, noting that the floor and walls were still splattered with both neon pink and human blood that had started to turn a sickly brown. It seemed odd that it had not been sterilized. Medical equipment and torture devices still littered the floor.

 

The sight caused his heart to flutter in his chest and he gripped the human's hand more firmly as he carefully passed the room. He paused at the edge of the next unit, his heart positively pounding in his chest and throat. He glanced into the room where he knew his robot companion was meant to be kept and almost immediately withdrew, pressing his PAK against the wall as he breathed nervously.  He glanced at his mate and mouthed the words, ‘your father.’

 

Dib watched as Zim scaled the wall and began disabling the security cameras, equally impressed with his boyfriend--Zim had always had an impressive set of skills. His impression turned to interest: he’d never actually seen that fuzzy static look in his eyes before, though he supposed it made sense. With the security cameras disabled, and Zim again on the floor, he allowed the Irken to take his hand and quietly followed behind, gripping the baseball bat tightly in his hand.

 

When Dib saw into the containment unit--smattered with bright pink and deep, muddy-darkened blood, his heart lurched into his chest and he was filled with rage all over again for his love, the things they had done to him, and the fact that his father had been involved. He was unable to halt the growl that rumbled through his chest as he squeezed the bat, lifting it in the air slightly to keep himself poised should he need to crack some skulls with it. It was far too quiet. Alarms should have sounded when they disabled the security cameras. However, he also expected that all Mobile Task Force Operatives, the Tactical Response Officers, and even the Field Agents were searching the city.

 

As Zim stopped them, Dib leaned against the wall and watched him closely. They must be at the containment unit housing GIR--but when Zim turned to him and mouthed those words, Dib again couldn’t control the rumbling in his chest and the snarl that made its way across his features. He nodded to show that he understood, releasing Zim’s hand to clutch his baseball bat with both hands, taking a deep, silent breath to steady his nerves. He wanted to kick the door in, rush his father in blaze of rage and glory, but he knew they wouldn’t make it out alive if he tried a stunt like that.

 

Zim leaned down to pull the knife from within his boot into his hand, slipping it into the sleeve of his jacket instead. He straightened himself with a deep breath, squaring his shoulders and holding his head high as he stepped toward the door. Through the glass he could see the instantly recognizable figure, even from the back there was no mistaking the man who was quickly gathering equipment into a plastic tote.

 

The Irken reached up his hand for the handle, hesitating for just a moment before grabbing it and pulling the door open. He stepped into the room with swagger in his step, convincing enough that only a few select beings in the whole of the universe would have been able to tell that it was a mask for his immense fear. The voice that Zim spoke in was nearly as convincing as his posture, “Good morning, Professor. Leaving so soon?”

 

Professor Membrane turned around at the voice, his brows arching upward at the sight of not only the extraterrestrial life form, but also his son. He had not seen his son in years, not since the first time that Dib had overdosed on narcotics.  He had not bothered attempting to reach him, either. As far as he was concerned, his son had actually died that day. The fact that his creation could be so stupid, he considered nothing short of a dismal failure on his part.

 

Yet, as much as he despised the reminder of his scientific shortcomings, a situation such as this required precision. Delicate navigation.  

 

He let out a soft sigh and looked to Dib speaking softly, imploringly even, “Son… I didn't know.”

 

“Where is GIR!?” Zim snapped at the human before his mate had a chance to answer.

 

The professor turned his head slightly to glance at the alien. He hesitated for just a moment before replying, “The robot was moved. We knew there was a possibility that you would return for him. He is on the third floor,” Membrane canted his head slightly, he almost looked ashamed as he continued, “I did not know who you were. Not until I saw the two of you leaving my home on the surveillance footage the field agents streamed back here. Had I known-”

 

“Zim does not care what you would have done. What you would have done does not erase what you did, you sick fuck,” the Irken growled venomously, taking a step forward threateningly. “If it was not Zim it would have been another. Another who likely deserved it even less than Zim. You should die for what you did to me.”

 

Membrane took a step back from the Irken, his back hitting against his workbench, rattling the delicate scientific tools he had gathered. He gave a curt nod at the assessment and retorted in a voice that sounded apologetic, “You are right. But you two are out of your depth down here. They will find you and you will die. I understand that you want me dead, but I implore you to let me help my son out of this situation. Allow me to do right by him, this one time in his life.”

 

Dib followed closely behind as Zim entered the room. Dib watched him spit venomous words at his father and scowled at that pathetic look on the man’s face. He used to call that man his father--but now? He wasn’t so sure. They might be almost identical biologically--but Dib knew now, and had known for years, that he was nothing more than a creation. The fact that his father let him walk away after his first overdose, and never contacted him again, told him everything he needed to know about their relationship that he hadn’t confirmed already.

 

When Zim came back, that bitterness and disappointment only turned to rage and hatred at the atrocities done to the only person in his life that meant anything, the only one that ever cared. Zim was right--it didn’t matter that his father didn’t know who he was or that they were connected. It didn’t matter that it was Zim and not some other poor alien stranded on the planet. Those things didn’t matter.

 

But Dib was human. More than anything he wanted a family that felt whole. Zim had become his family, sure, and Gaz was still around, but the thought of being such a disappointment to his own father filled him with a sadness he just couldn’t shake, and he wasn’t even his father for Christ’s sake, but his creator.

 

Dib’s grip on the baseball bat slackened, and it hung loosely in its grip pointed to the floor. Carefully, he wrapped an arm around Zim and pulled him back, placing himself between his love and his worst enemy, taking slow and cautious breaths as he turned to face the Irken. “Zim, I promise, he is not going to get away with this,” his hand was tight on Zim’s shoulder, his eyes begging. “I just need to talk to him. Nothing he says can excuse him for what he did, I know that.”

 

He turned to the man in front of him, his face hardening once again, eyes dark and narrowed, and he clutched the bat in his hands. “You don’t know us, Professor. You don’t know me. We’re more likely to get out of this alive than you think, GIR in hand, even without your help. So, tell me-- convince me --why I should bother trying to save your life, and why I shouldn’t take it myself for the all of the horrible, disgusting things you’ve done?”

 

Dib took a step forward, boot heavy on the slick floor. He was the same height as his father now--could look him in the eyes. He squared his shoulders, swinging the bat once in his hand. “What’s it going to be, Dad?”

 

In the moment that Dib was distracted, turned toward the tiny alien the professor slipped his hand into the deep pocket of his lab coat and palmed a hypodermic needle which he concealed in his billowing sleeve. He smirked ever so slightly but let his features slip back into the mask of apprehension as the boy turned back to him.

 

In the boy's face he could see each of his features replicated, regardless of how haggard the boy looked. The exact slope of his nose, definition of his chin and the same brilliantly colored yellow eyes. It was a beautiful piece of science before him. For a time, his crowning achievement.  

 

However, there had always been something off with the design. For many years he thought him insane but wrote it off as part of the learning curve for successful cloning. A few wires had been crossed, but he was still remarkably intelligent and could achieve great things. When he had been approached to work on Zim and learned the truth of the Irken, his son's boyfriend - he came to realize the severity of his defects.

 

The drugs that had come after the alien's disappearance had been a disappointment to him. Proof that he had failed as an inventor and a parent. He had hoped that Dib would move on, dedicate himself to scientific pursuits and grow to be a creation he could take pride in. No such luck.  Though he figured that the mess would clean itself up quite nicely in good time and allow him to keep his hands clean.

 

The time had come to put an end to this foolishness.

 

Membrane gulped in feigned nervousness as his eyes followed the path of the bat in the boy's hands. He looked back at him and began to speak quietly, “Son… I know that you owe me nothing. I have not earned the right to ask you for a single thing. I have never been a good father to you. I gave your life, but I have given you very little else since that point. I am so sorry that your life has turned out this way.”

 

He straightened himself up a little, meeting Dib's gaze pathetically. He lowered his head in shame, though beneath his goggles he did not take his eyes from the pair for even a moment as he continued, “I cannot make this right. Nothing I could do can erase the past. But, please let me help you. You are my son and I love you, Dib. I do not want to see these men hurt you.”

 

As if to punctuate the statement, red light filled the hallway behind them and a siren sounded from deep within the complex.  Membrane gasped audibly, and his head snapped up at the sound. He looked once more at his creation and implored, “Please, Dib.”

 

Dib looked his father up and down, squaring his shoulders and giving the bat another good swing while he listened to the man speak. This man was not his father. If he believed they wouldn’t get out of this alive without his help, they would prove him wrong.

 

“You failed when you made me, Dad. You failed when you weren’t there to raise me, to comfort me. You were never a father, and you never loved me. I’m not your son, and you’re not my father,” he said, clutching the bat tightly, poised in the air. The alarm rang, and his head snapped to the hallway, then to Zim. They were caught. That’s it. They’d have to get this over with, hurry to GIR, and get the hell out of here.

 

Turning his back to his father, he reached out with his spare hand and took Zim’s. “I’m ending this here and now. Go find GIR. If you’ve still got that tracker on me, then you’ll be able to make your way back to me. We’ll meet on the roof.” Dib didn’t expect Membrane to be so quick, so agile in his age. He didn’t expect the sting in the back of his neck. He turned back to face the man, eyes wide and horrified.

 

He had feigned a look of hurt when Dib spat those words at him. The venomous tone the boy used nearly made him break his resolve to roll his eyes. Such childish prattle. He may not have been there to coddle Dib, but he had provided him with all that he could have needed. The boy had a roof over his head, he had never gone hungry, he had unlimited resources and freedom. Dib was nothing more than a selfish, insolent brat that was so wrapped up in his perceived injustices that he could not see that even with an absent father, even with his alien boyfriend having disappeared- he had it far better than so many could ever even dream of.

 

He watched as the boy turned to speak to the Irken who had been scowling at him from behind his son's back. He should have put that alien down long ago. He had been far too intrigued by the piece of technology on his back. The PAK sustained and regenerated the Irken in a way that could potentially provide immortality. The experimentation had grown to a point of simply satisfying a morbid curiosity as to the extent of the damage the device could heal. Which, as it turns out, is an extensive amount.

 

The moment that Zim had lifted his eyes, nervously shaking his head at the idea of the two of them separating, Membrane slipped the hypodermic out of his sleeve and closed the gap between he and his ‘son.’ The plunger had been pushed all the way down, sending the chemicals coursing into the boy's bloodstream before either of them could react.

 

Membrane could hear the sound of many heavy boots quickly heading in their direction, closing in on their location. As the boy turned to look at him, betrayal and understanding in his eyes, Membrane smirked in response, “You are right, Dib. I did fail when I made you. You have never been anything more than a failed experiment and it is time for this experiment to end.”

 

Zim did not realize what had happened, not until the needle fell to the floor. When he saw it, realization crashed down on him as surely as Dib collapsed to the ground.  He was barely able to register the words that the professor spoke, instead all he could hear was the suddenly irregular, swiftly fading beat of his mate's heart. His senses were filled with the smell of acrid poison that replaced the perfume of his lover's adrenaline.  In an instant his PAK flared crimson, spider like legs tearing through the fabric of his jacket as he launched himself at the man that had created the love of his life.

 

Something short circuited inside the tiny alien, grief, anger and pain flooded him, so profound that all of his suffering to this point seemed like nothing more than mere inconvenience. None of the torture he had endured had broken him as thoroughly as this had. He screamed curses in English and Irken as he swiped at the man with both claws and knife.

 

He knew that he was not leaving this building. His window of opportunity to escape had come and gone. He could feel his own doom pressing in around him. But it did not matter. There was no reason to go on without the human that lay dying at his feet. He had brought Dib here. He had put him in danger's path. He was just as responsible as the man whom he attacked. So, they would die, here, together. But not before he had gotten vengeance for the both of them.

 

Tears poured down his cheeks as he brought the knife up in a lightning fast movement, every ounce of his strength in the blow. Membrane managed to move his head at the very last moment, the blade missing his chin, instead leaving a slash across his jaw and cheek, cutting the band of his goggles which fell to the ground.

 

The flash of honey colored eyes caused the Irken to hesitate. Only for a fraction of a second. But it was long enough for the professor to land a blow of his own. A supercharged taser directly to Zim's abdomen. His PAK legs collapsed beneath him, dropping him to the ground directly beside his dying mate. Zim tried to lift himself to continue the assault only to have another four nodes stick into him and deliver debilitating waves of electricity into his body by the agents who rushed through the door.

 

Zim's back arched involuntarily, his mouth wide in a nearly silent scream as his skin burned away where the electric nodes had stuck to him. His sight began to darken, his vision dominated by the sight of the boy who was fading just as swiftly as he was.

 

The moment the needle fell to the floor, Dib shakily rose his hand to press into the puncture on his neck, his vision beginning to blur as his limbs gave way beneath him. He had no control over himself as he began to convulse, coughing and sputtering. He could see his glasses on the floor in front of him, could turn just enough to halfway see Zim leap across to his father.

 

Dib’s vision continued to go in and out, fading from blackness to blurry figures, blood on the floor. He could hear shouting, hissing, a few sharp zaps. Zim collapsed beside him and arching into the air. The animated movement of his mate was almost angelic in his final moments, and he was confused. He didn’t know how this could all go wrong so fast.

 

Reaching out, hand shaking, spitting blood onto the stark floor, Dib managed to grasp Zim’s hand before his eyesight failed him and the world went black, unable to mutter Zim’s name.

 


	3. Chapter 3

“Zim does not _want_ to go to this ritual.”

 

The words brought a laugh to the boy's lips as he looked down at the Irken, who was laying with his head resting on his leg while playing idly with the assortment of decorative buckles and zippers that adorned his pants. Dib rolled his eyes at the familiar argument and corrected, “It is not a _ritual_ . It is a _ceremony_ . A celebration! And you put in all the work to earn it,” the boy brought his hand down, tracing the line of Zim's jaw with his fingertips. “ _Please do not make me go to graduation by myself._ It _might_ even be fun. Don't make me _beg_ , Zim.”

 

Zim smirked and looked up at his human, shielding his eyes from the summer sun that shone through the leaves of the tree they sat under with one lazy hand. “But that is one of my _favourite_ things to do, Stink.”

 

“I have noticed,” Dib replied in an unamused drawl, in spite of the smile that lingered on his features. The human moved his hand to the Irken's chest, smoothing the fabric of his uniform with the pad of his thumb as he gave in, “ _Please_ ? Come to graduation with me. It is _only_ a couple of hours. _Please, Zim_ ... _Please_?”

 

Zim flashed a toothy grin up at the boy, chuckling at the pathetic, but wholly endearing display. He plucked the human's hand off of his chest and sat up, adjusting his hat and costume glasses as he turned to the boy. “ _Very well, Dib-Worm_ . Zim _supposes_ that he will attend this _graduation ritual_.”

 

As a way of saying farewell the alien shouldered his bag and announced matter of factly, “Zim must get back to the base. It is Probing Day. My Tallests will be _eager_ to hear of my latest plans to _destroy this ball of filth_.”

 

Dib did not take the announcement seriously. It had been quite some time since he felt Zim _actually wanted_ to destroy Earth. His plans had gone from reckless and _downright terrifying_ to little more than elaborate pranks in the last few years. The human frowned a bit but leaned forward, stealing a kiss before his boyfriend was able to protest it and was pleasantly surprised when Zim kissed him back, purring softly into the motion. It did not last long, after just a few moments Zim grabbed the boy's face with one hand and shoved him away _almost_ playfully.

 

As he rose and walked away the Irken lifted one hand and called back over his shoulder, “Tomorrow, then. _See you, Stinky_.”

 

Dib rose as Zim walked off, taking an idle lean on the tree and watching as the alien departed. He subconsciously slipped his hand into the deep pocket of his trenchcoat, gripping the small velvet box that had resided there now for weeks, smiling wistfully. As Zim was about to turn the corner and disappear from sight the human called back to him, “See you tomorrow, Spaceboy!”

 

Deep down, he _knew_ that tomorrow was going to be a _good_ day.

 

Zim took a bit of time when he returned to the base to remove his human disguise, washing the makeup from his eyes and then added _much more_ of the green pigment he had been able to buy in bulk to cover his pink freckles and the _scandalous_ bite marks on his neck. Marks which Dib had been _rather pleased with himself about._ Even if he had received several sharp smacks to his shoulder for it, the boy had laughed happily as the Irken fumed at him for damaging his _mighty skin._

 

After the marks were there though, Zim had not bothered to try hiding them in his day to day life. He had been almost _enjoying_ the knowing looks the girls at Skool flashed him and the _envious way_ a few of them looked at Dib afterward. The pair did not _flaunt_ their relationship per say, but Zim knew they were _often_ the topic of gossip. Hearing the assumptions that the humans made of them had become somewhat of an _amusing pastime_ for the pair.

 

The Irken may have even started a few of the rumors himself, _just for the fun of it._

 

But all of that was a separate life than _this_ . He simply _put on a mask_ , assumed the role that he knew he needed to wear to survive. When he was done stripping his flamboyant expressions of character from his person, he looked once again like a presentable Irken Invader. As he took in the sight of his reflection Zim wondered, not for the first time - _which face was truly the mask?_

 

He had spent his time since the _last_ Probing Day gathering information about the planet. _Legitimate research,_ mostly garnered from his classes at Skool. Biology, Zoology, History, Government. He had been told by the Tallests on _many occasions_ that he was meant only to _observe_ Earth, _not to destroy it._ And he had found the desire go conquer the planet had waned to nearly nothing.

 

So he would _observe_ , he would _report_ , as he was _ordered to do._

 

He had been prepared to deliver his presentation, to show the Tallest that he could do _quality_ work. To request _another_ extension of his stay on Earth. He was not prepared for the _horror show_ that Probing Day quickly dissolved to.

 

The Irken stood, his mouth agape as he stared at the faces of his Almighty Tallest, sneering down at him in utter disgust as they laughed and _destroyed_ his world. _This is not how things were supposed to be._

 

His Tallest were supposed to be _stunned_ by his amazing intellect. They were _supposed_ to praise his abilities as an invader. Instead, they _laughed_ at Zim.

 

 _Everything_ he knew had been a lie. His _mission_ , his _purpose_ , his _redemption_ . _All of it._ It was nothing more than an excuse to keep him as far away from The Massive and the rest of the armada as possible during Operation Impending Doom Two. He had spent the last six years on this rock, _hoping_ to make the Tallest proud, but he had become the biggest _laughingstock_ of the Irken Empire.

 

The transmission screen winked out of existence after Red hissed the order for him to _never_ contact The Massive again and Purple sneered that the greatest thing Zim could do would be to _delete himself_ . _For the good of The Empire._ The Irken was left in stunned silence, bathed in the ambient pink lighting of his lab, staring at the spot where his leaders had just a moment ago dominated the space.

 

It seemed like hours that he stared at that spot, willing all of this to have been a deranged hallucination caused by some parasite burrowing into his brain. _But there were no parasites, only his failure._

 

He was pulled from his introspection as his minion burst into the lab, riding on the back of a hog which seemed to be covered in _some sort_ of strawberry preserves. The appearance did very little to shake him, it was _not_ the strangest appearance that the tiny robot had made over the years. Zim narrowed his eyes and shouted, “GIR!”

 

Blue eyes flashed suddenly crimson and the robot was before him awaiting orders, “ **Yes, Sir**!”

 

“GIR, _all operations_ are put on hold until further notice,” the Irken sounded steady as he made his way over to the control panel, his voice not once betraying the upheaval he felt in his spooch. He pressed a few buttons and plunged the laboratory into darkness, tossing his presentation onto the floor at his feet.

 

He turned to walk towards his quarters and called over his shoulder, “I am _not_ to be disturbed.  You may watch the horrible teevee for the rest of the evening.”

 

As he retreated down the hallway, he could hear GIR squealing with joy as he ran from the lab. The shock was beginning to wear off and the Irken was settling into a _rage_ at the _injustice of it all_. The door slid shut behind him as he stepped into his room and glanced at the walls. They were covered in schematics, schemes, flaws in the Earth's defenses, research of flora and fauna. In an instant he snarled and began ripping the papers off of the walls and shredding them with his claws.

 

Zim collapsed in the lounge chair which he _typically_ used for reading and considered forcing himself into a sleep cycle. While Irkens did not need to sleep he could always command his PAK to shut his body down temporarily to avoid consciousness for awhile, even if it was only meant to be used when he was injured. But he did not have the energy to even do that.

 

His eyes became unfocused and he stared at a now bare expanse of his wall until he was pulled from his fugue. The communicator on his wrist buzzed to life and the Irken glanced down to read the incoming message.

 

 **[Stinky][04:37 AM (GMT-4)]:** hey spaceboy

**\---**

**[Stinky][04:37 AM (GMT-4)]:** you want to go get breakfast before graduation?

**\---**

**[Stinky][04:38 AM (GMT-4)]:** i’m buying

**\---**

**[Stinky][04:38 AM (GMT-4)]:** you know

**\---**

**[Stinky][04:38 AM (GMT-4)]:** as usual

**\---**

Zim wanted _even less_ to go to the graduation than he had yesterday. He wanted nothing more than to sit in this chair until he had wasted away. But he sighed heavily, typed out a quick response, declining the invitation for breakfast but did lift himself out of the chair and started the arduous task of getting himself ready.

 

He arrived at the ceremony with only five minutes to spare. It was not hard to pick his _incredibly anxious_ boyfriend, who had obviously begun to think that Zim was not going to show up, out of the crowd. Dib had been standing on his toes, looking for him. Even if he hadn't been, Zim would have been able to pick his _ridiculous_ hair out of the sea of teenagers without issue.

 

Zim was practically silent through the entire ordeal. He did not resist the human holding his hand as they sat next to one another, _only once_ did he smile when Dib began poking fun at their classmates and expressed his astonishment that one jock in particular had managed to graduate. The look of relief on the boy's face at that smile had almost pulled him out of his own misery.

 

 _Almost_.

 

By the time it was all over and Zim had his diploma in hand, all that he wanted to do was to go home and be _alone_ for awhile.

 

But he had allowed himself to be dragged to a coffee shop where he accepted the hot chocolate that the human purchased for him. The pair then walked through the park towards their homes. Dib spoke _endlessly_ , the way that he tended to do when there was _any_ kind of tension in the air. Zim had stopped paying attention to him quite some time ago, to be perfectly honest.

 

So he was taken by surprise when Dib grabbed him by the arm, stopping his forward momentum and turning him so that they faced one another. Zim could tell immediately that the human was incredibly nervous about what he was saying, he could _smell_ the nerves on the boy and could hear his heart speeding up.

 

“So, _considering all of that,_ what do you think? It seems like the next _logical step_ moving forward.” The boy was smiling hopefully at him, eager but trepid.

 

Zim sighed and shrugged off the human's grip on him, rubbing his temples in irritation as he asked, “Zim has not been listening to your _prattle_ . What are you _going on about_ , Stink?”

 

The face Dib made showed his hurt quite obviously, but Zim tuning him out was not a new occurrence. The human shook away whatever inner dialogue he had going on and reiterated while running his hand nervously through his hair, “ **_Us_ ** , Zim. _I was talking about us_ . I… I want us to _live together_ . I want to be _with_ you. I could move into the base. I don't have much. _I won't take up that much space_. Or, we could get an apartment by the college. Just for a little bit, while I get my degree.”

 

The boy began to fumble for something in his pocket and continued to ramble, “What I mean to say. I mean. We could-”

 

“ _No_.”

 

“W-what?” The answer was blunt and the human looked as if he had been _slapped in the face_ . After just a moment he began again, reaching a trembling hand back out toward the alien, his voice barely above a whisper, “But Zim… _I thought that-_ ”

 

“Well, you thought **wrong** \- _human_ .” Zim clenched his fists at his sides, anger bubbling up within him. Had this conversation happened yesterday, under the tree in the park, Zim _might_ have been more receptive. But he had been bottling all of his hurt and anger inside of him since the Almighty Tallests had disconnected their video feed and it all came to a head _now_ . His anger directed at the nearest target, which _happened_ to be the human in front of him.

 

What Dib was asking of him was to abandon what shreds of his identity as an Irken that he could still cling to. To accept this defeat. _To live a_ **_defective_ ** _life._

 

Zim smacked away the human's hand which was attempting to grasp his shoulder. “What were you _expecting_ to come from this? _Were you dreaming of a white picket fence, Dib-stupid_ ? I am **Zim** . I am an **_Irken Invader_ ** . _This_ ,” he gestured between the two of them with a gloved hand, “was **_never_ ** anything more than a _distraction_ while I am _stuck_ on this _ball of filth_.”

 

Dib pulled his hand up to his chest as it was smacked away as if it had been burned. He shook his head as Zim spoke tears rimmed his honey colored eyes. The human gritted his teeth and snapped back, “ _That isn't true._ This has been _real_ , I _know_ it has. You are my _everything_ . _We are meant to be together._ Zim, _I lov-_ ”

 

“ **_SILENCE_ ** !” The Irken shouted in frustration. He stepped forward and shoved hard against Dib's chest, throwing the human off balance and knocking him to the ground. From his position above the other he reiterated, “I am an _Irken_ . I am an _invader_ . _You_ are _beneath me, you pathetic worm._ I do not _need_ you. _And I do not want you. You disgust me -_ **_Dib-Beast_ ** _._ ”

 

Zim punctuated his declaration by throwing his half full cocoa at the human before turning on his heel and fleeing the scene as fast as he could run without the use of his PAK legs. By the time he had gotten three blocks away, he was openly crying as he ran. He sprinted across the street, narrowly missing being hit by a car that slammed on its breaks to avoid him. It honked loudly and he could hear some human shouting at him but he did not stop running.

 

 _Finally_ , he made it to his base and threw the door open wide as he rushed in. He ignored the familiar sound of his droids echoing ‘welcome home, son!’ and slammed the door shut. The Irken immediately threw his bag to the ground, not caring as it burst open, spilling his graduation robe, cosmetics and his diploma onto the floor. He ripped off his disguise and felt as if he couldn't breathe, pressure seemed to press down upon him and made him collapse in a fetal heap.

 

He brought his knees up to his chest and covered his face with his hands as he sobbed to the point that his throat was raw and his head pounded in pain. When he had finally stopped crying and managed to lift himself from the ground the light pouring in from his front window had taken on the orange and pink hues of sunset. He looked up to see his robotic companion sitting only a foot or so away from him, his head tilted to the side. _For all Zim knew_ GIR had been attempting to speak to him through the whole ordeal, but he had no way to tell.

 

“Master?” GIR's voice was soft, _concerned_.

 

Zim shook his head as he stood and gathered his belongings once again into his messenger bag and headed toward the elevator that would take him down to his room. He called over his shoulder, his voice cracking from the pain in his throat, “It is nothing to concern yourself with, _GIR_ ,” the Irken stepped into the garbage can in his kitchen, “Just a _bad day._ COMPUTER - Sixth floor.”

 

Now that he had played out his meltdown, Zim felt numb, as if there was no more feeling left within him. The last twenty four hours had been the worst that he had experienced in all of his one hundred and eighteen years. _He had lost everything._

 

His _station_ , his _Tallest_ , his _empire_ . He had even _completely_ self-sabotaged his relationship with Dib.

 

He stepped out of the elevator and made his way towards his own chambers. The Irken sat back down in the chair he had occupied for so long the previous evening and dug his obnoxiously pink cellphone, which served as another interface for his communicator, out of his bag. He was _unsurprised_ to find that Dib had been messaging him _relentlessly_. Zim let out a soft sigh and unlocked the device with a swipe of his thumb.

 

**[MISSED CALL][Stinky][01:45 PM (GMT-4)]**

**\---**

**[MISSED CALL][Stinky][01:55 PM (GMT-4)]**

**\---**

**[MISSED CALL][Stinky][02:06 PM (GMT-4)]**

**\---**

**[Stinky][02:15 PM (GMT-4)]:** I can't believe you walked away. I can't believe you said that to me. Did the past, what, six years, mean nothing to you?

**\---**

**[Stinky][02:20 PM (GMT-4)]:** Whatever I did, I'm sorry. We can talk about this. Just come over, okay?

**\---**

**[MISSED CALL][Stinky][02:24 PM (GMT-4)]**

**\---**

**[MISSED CALL][Stinky][02:27 PM (GMT-4)]**

**\---**

**[Stinky][02:30 PM (GMT-4)]:** Zim, c'mon. Answer your phone.

**\---**

**[Stinky][02:40 PM (GMT-4)]:** Are you really giving me the silent treatment right now? That's so like you.

**\---**

**[Stinky][02:48 PM (GMT-4)]:** I really thought we had something.

**\---**

**[Stinky][03:02 PM (GMT-4)]:** I can't believe you're just going to act like what we have doesn't matter.

**\---**

**[Stinky][03:03 PM (GMT-4)]:** Didn't matter.

**\---**

**[Stinky][03:08 PM (GMT-4)]:** I don't believe you for a second that it was all a ploy for whatever Invader scheme you like to think you've got going on. You really can't expect me to believe that.

**\---**

**[MISSED CALL][Stinky][03:11 PM (GMT-4)]**

**\---**

**[MISSED CALL][Stinky][03:17 PM (GMT-4)]**

**\---**

**[MISSED CALL][Stinky][03:19 PM (GMT-4)]**

**\---**

**[Stinky][03:20 PM (GMT-4)]:** Answer your fucking phone. Talk to me.

**\---**

**[MISSED CALL][Stinky][03:24 PM (GMT-4)]**

**\---**

**[Stinky][03:27 PM (GMT-4)]:** What the hell even happened to you back there? That came out of nowhere. I mean you were off all day, but damn it.

**\---**

**[Stinky][03:31 PM (GMT-4)]:** I was going to say

**\---**

**[Stinky][03:32 PM (GMT-4)]:** Nevermind. It doesn't matter anymore, does it?

**\---**

**[Stinky][03:35 PM (GMT-4)]:** I guess I never really did mean anything to you.

**\---**

**[Stinky][03:38 PM (GMT-4)]:** All those nights spent up late, watching movies, talking, holding hands.

**\---**

**[Stinky][03:40 PM (GMT-4)]:** Kissing you for Christ's sake.

**\---**

**[MISSED CALL][Stinky][03:48 PM (GMT-4)]**

**\---**

**[Stinky][04:28 PM (GMT-4)]:** I don’t have anybody else, Zim. You're the only thing that matters to me.

**\---**

**[Stinky][04:30 PM (GMT-4)]:** That's ever mattered.

**\---**

**[Stinky][04:35 PM (GMT-4)]:** You were my universe.

**\---**

**[Stinky][04:35 PM (GMT-4)]:** Are.

**\---**

**[Stinky][04:38 PM (GMT-4)]:** Were, I don't know.

**\---**

**[MISSED CALL][Stinky][04:45 PM (GMT-4)]**

**\---**

**[Stinky][04:58 PM (GMT-4)]:** I wish you'd just call me back.

**\---**

**[MISSED CALL][Stinky][05:16 PM (GMT-4)]**

**\---**

**[Stinky][05:22 PM (GMT-4)]:** Please.

**\---**

**[MISSED CALL][Stinky][05:26 PM (GMT-4)]**

**\---**

**[MISSED CALL][Stinky][05:32 PM (GMT-4)]**

**\---**

**[Stinky][05:39 PM (GMT-4)]:** Why are you not answering your phone? Or answering my texts?

**\---**

**[MISSED CALL][Stinky][05:41 PM (GMT-4)]**

**\---**

**[Stinky][05:46 PM (GMT-4)]** : Zim. Pick up the phone. We can talk this out, okay? I need--I need to know why

**\---**

**[Stinky][05:50 PM (GMT-4)]:** What changed? What happened to us?

**\---**

**[MISSED CALL][Stinky][05:54 PM (GMT-4)]**

**\---**

**[MISSED CALL][Stinky][06:08 PM (GMT-4)]**

**\---**

**[MISSED CALL][Stinky][06:13 PM (GMT-4)]**

**\---**

**[MISSED CALL][Stinky][06:21 PM (GMT-4)]**

**\---**

**[MISSED CALL][Stinky][06:33 PM (GMT-4)]**

**\---**

**[MISSED CALL][Stinky][06:47 PM (GMT-4)]**

**\---**

**[MISSED CALL][Stinky][06:57 PM (GMT-4)]**

**\---**

**[MISSED CALL][Stinky][07:13 PM (GMT-4)]**

**\---**

**[Stinky][07:18 PM (GMT-4)]:** Christ, Zim, what the hell?

**\---**

**[Stinky][07:38 PM (GMT-4)]:** I honestly can't believe you're ghosting me right now. How petty.

**\---**

**[Stinky][07:45 PM (GMT-4)]:** You always act like this. It's childish. I thought we'd fucking grown up.

**\---**

**[Stinky][07:50 PM (GMT-4)]:** I had plans for us, you know? I thought--we'd do this together.

**\---**

**[MISSED CALL][Stinky][07:57 PM (GMT-4)]**

**\---**

**[MISSED CALL][Stinky][08:22 PM (GMT-4)]**

**\---**

**[MISSED CALL][Stinky][08:36 PM (GMT-4)]**

**\---**

**[Stinky][08:42 PM (GMT-4)]:** Fuck this. I'm going to bed. Call me.

**\---**

Zim let out another heavy sigh as he read the messages through several times. Dib really did not deserve to be treated the way that Zim had treated him this afternoon. Zim knew that he had over reacted. But he was not ready to have this conversation.  He was just barely keeping another surge of tears at bay as it was.

 

He would talk to Dib in the morning. Once he had time to figure out a proper apology.

 

Dib would forgive him for this.

 

Dib always forgave him.

 

He had barely lowered the phone when it buzzed once again. The Irken set the phone on his lap and had planned to ignore it. But almost immediately another two messages came through.  He glanced down at the texts with a groan.

 

 **[Stinky][09:15 PM (GMT-4)]:** You know what? No. I'm coming over.

**\---**

**[Stinky][09:15 PM (GMT-4)]:** You're going to talk to me whether you want to or not.

**\---**

**[Stinky][09:16 PM (GMT-4)]:** I'll be there in five minutes.

**\---**

Zim lowered the phone and brought both of his hands up to his temples, rubbing them wearily with the pads of his fingers. He then picked his phone back up and turned on the camera to check how much work he had to do to make himself presentable.  He nearly hissed at his own reflection.

 

His freckled cheeks were streaked with makeup from his tears. His eyes were vividly amethyst from the strain of crying. There was still paste on his scalp from his wig. In other words, he was a wreck.

 

He did not want Dib to see him like this.

 

After just a moment the Irken called out, “COMPUTER -”

 

**< WHAT IS IT NOW?>**

 

Zim scoffed at the predictability of the rude response and continued as if it had not happened at all, “The Dib-human is on his way here. Do NOT let him in the base.”

 

**< PROCESSING>**

 

**< THE DIB WILL BE ELIMINATED>**

 

“NO!” Zim shouted back before clarifying, “Do not HURT him. Just keep him _out_ for tonight. Revoke his privileges for awhile.” He did not want the boy to be hurt, no more than he already had been today. But this emotional hurt from being denied access to the base, access that had been given freely for the past two years, could not be avoided. Zim was not physically or mentally prepared for the conflict that was bound to happen if Dib was allowed to come inside.

 

It was typical at this point that when Dib approached the base the gnomes would watch him, but they would not move. The door would swing open wide and the robotic parental units would welcome him the exact same way that they did Zim, with a ‘welcome home.’ Tonight, however, the gnome’s eyes flared to life - their crimson homing in on him as they rushed the human. Their attacks were not aiming to kill, as they used to, instead they served to merely bar the way.

 

Zim watched the whole ordeal on one of his computer monitors, the grainy and pixelated image of his boyfriend attempting relentlessly to breach the base only to be blocked at every turn. The human spent nearly two full hours trying to get inside before he gave up. Tears streaked the boy's face as he kicked one of the security gnomes fiercely and turned, storming down the pathway and back out to the street, shouting furiously as he went.

 

Zim had almost given in, near the end of it. But as he watched the boy leave, he knew it was for the best. Tomorrow he would be able to explain everything. He would be able to approach this calmly. Rationally.  He would be able to make this right.

 

He thought about sending a text to let Dib know that they would talk tomorrow but he knew that it would just open a huge dialogue that he could not commit to in his current state. Instead the Irken began washing the smeared makeup from his face and making a plan for the morning.

 

When he finally crawled into bed, he checked his phone one more time. A smile pulled at his lips as he saw that there was one more message waiting for him.

 

 **[Stinky][12:11 AM (GMT-4)]:** when you decide you want to talk let me know. try not to take too long.

 

Zim smiled once down at the phone before setting it back into his bag. He knew that once he explained what had transpired Dib would understand. He would forgive him. Hell, the boy would probably even apologize for his own reaction, even though Zim did not deserve the apology in the slightest.  

 

His PAK woke him early in the morning, jolting him back into consciousness. Typically Zim would have spent several minutes laying in the warmth of his bed and pondering his place in the universe but on this morning he practically leapt from his tangle of blankets and began to ready himself almost feverishly.

 

He grabbed an outfit that Dib had picked out for him on one of their adventures to the mall, revealing, form fitting and bright. Dib had become adept at picking out clothing that the Irken simply adored and this particular outfit had been one of the human's favourites. Once he had triple checked his own reflection Zim was out the door, heading for the same mall that the outfit had come from.

 

Not to shop. Instead he headed directly for the electronics store where he had spent the last summer working, selling sub par technology to gullible humans and troubleshooting their issues, mostly user error, over the phone. He did not leave the shop until Mr. Mendez had given him his job back. He would start on Monday and he would be able to help get Dib into an apartment of their very own.

 

His next stop was going to be the boy's house. He would slip through his window, sit on the edge of his bed until he woke up. Then Zim would tell Dib _everything_.

 

On his way the Irken skidded to a stop at the sight of a small flower shop on the corner. He had studied human relationships extensively since he had found himself in one and he knew that giving flowers as a gift was a human tradition. He stepped inside and was nearly overwhelmed with the aroma of floral bouquets. But after only a few minutes he had dug enough change from the bottom of his purse to purchase a single yellow sunflower.

 

It was a pretty flower, nearly the color of Dib's eyes. He clutched it tightly in his hands as he walked toward the Dib-House. As he got closer the first hints of nervousness at this plan began to take hold in his chest. Small slivers of doubt that his explanation may not be well received. His hands began to subconsciously grip the stem of his flower far too tightly, damaging the fragile plant, but Zim could not be bothered to notice.

 

He slowed his steps, mumbling his explanation in rehearsal for actually telling his boyfriend what had happened. Preparation for the vulnerability he was about to experience and the life changing declaration he was about to give.

 

He was so wrapped up in his own mind that he did not recognize the danger approaching him. Had he been more focused on his surroundings he might have felt the ominous stirrings in the air or heard the vans approaching him. As it was, the Irken was caught off guard until it was too late. Three unmarked black vans surrounded him, peeling into place to corral him between them, blocking his exits.

 

Their appearance was so sudden that Zim did not have the time to contemplate how he had been found out, he only knew that he was suddenly cornered by humans that had no way to know that he was no longer their enemy. Zim dropped his flower and engaged his PAK legs, attempting to launch himself over one of the vehicles. The motion was cut short as a masked human shot what looked like a simple taser gun at him.

 

The electrodes had managed to catch hold of him, the charge that it delivered to his body was so intense that it caused his PAK to short, his spider like legs collapsing beneath him.

 

He tried to lift himself from the ground but received another shock, this one even greater than before. The last thing he could remember was a burlap sack being forced over his head as he blacked out from the pain.

 

Dib could still feel the soreness of the concrete beneath him and the gravel in the palms of his hands, the slight burn of the hot cocoa on his chest and dripping from his chin, even the sting of Zim’s words. When he’d arrived home that afternoon, it took almost all of his self-control not to destroy everything in sight. After what could only have been the fiftieth phone call, he screamed—a howl that tore his throat raw as he ripped the photos off the walls.

 

He popped off text messages, curled into a sobbing ball in his bed until his stomach and throat ached. He clutched his phone desperately, almost drifting into an exhausted sleep before he shook himself awake, determined to talk to his boyfriend and find out _what the hell_ was happening.

 

He called again, texted—he was going over, whether Zim liked it or not. The velvet box had a new home, now, sitting behind his computer monitor where he couldn’t see it.

 

He was _not_ , however, prepared for Zim to have reinstated his defense systems. He was _sure_ he could still breach them, but for whatever reason, the Irken was determined not to let him in. After _hours_ of struggling against the gnomes and various other defenses, Dib gave up. He turned and walked away, sending off a single text to Zim, hoping that he would talk when he was ready.

 

When Dib awoke the next morning, he almost expected to see Zim sitting at the edge of his bed, disguise gone but in hand, window open and curtains billowing in the breeze.

 

He expected to see the look of sadness at the photographs strewn across the floor.

 

He expected a half-hearted apology, or maybe even an honest one, and Dib had been prepared to give his own.

 

Dib was _tired_ , and Zim _wasn’t here_. Taking a deep breath, still in yesterday’s clothes, Dib tugged his boots and jacket on, making his way out of the house and toward Zim’s. He wasn’t sure that he’d be able to get in, or that Zim would want to talk, but where was the Irken going to go?

 

He knew deep down that Zim felt the same, or at least something close. He knew that Zim didn’t want to take over Earth anymore, and he knew that their fights were nothing more than petty disagreements—playing at _Villain versus Protector of Earth_. Just roles. Theatre.

 

He wasn’t surprised to see the defenses still in place, and much like last night, he was unable to get past them. With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, Dib made his way back home, defeated, once again.

 

If it wasn’t today, it’d be tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the next.

 

When the defenses were finally down, Dib assumed that Zim was ready to talk. Four days later than he’d hoped, a plethora of phone calls and texts smattered throughout the days and nights. However, he did not expect the silence that overwhelmed the air around Zim’s base this morning, heavy rain soaking almost clear-through his trenchcoat. The gnomes didn’t even _move_ as he approached. No defenses, fine, but normally they’d follow him right up to the door with their creepy little laser-eyes.

 

_What the hell…?_

 

Shaking off his discomfort, Dib made his way down the walk, to the door, which he carefully swung open. Not even those creepy parent-robots arrived to greet him. GIR didn’t come screaming toward him, clinging to his head. It was _way too quiet_.

 

Fear flooded Dib’s chest as he made his way into the depths of the base. The fear was only replaced with pain as he made his way out into Zim’s main lab--all of his equipment was _gone_. The Voot was gone. The screens were black.

 

He hurried through every room he could access. Any trace of Zim was gone. Any files, folders, all of his equipment, GIR. Even the computer was silent, disconnected. Slowly, Dib sunk to his knees in the middle of the lab, soundless as tears spilled down his cheeks. _He was gone._ Dib must have been home when Zim took off, taking everything with him.

 

Hours went by before Dib found the strength to lift himself off the floor, taking a final and desperate look around the lab before making his way up and out of the base, out the front door, and through the pouring rain toward his house. He didn’t say anything to Gaz or his father as he went inside and headed up to his room. He didn’t take off his boots or his jacket.

 

Grabbing the small box from behind his monitor, he shoved it deep into the inside pocket of his trench. He grabbed a suitcase from the closet, his baseball bat, and started to pack--just the bare essentials.

 

He could vaguely hear Gaz behind him in the doorway trying to talk to him, could hear her frustration and her footsteps making their way back down the hallway. He could vaguely hear his father taking her place, the tone of confusion in his voice as Dib shoved clothing into the suitcase. His laptop. He zipped the bag closed, glanced blankly over his shoulder at his father. He couldn’t _understand_ the words coming from the man. It was all buzzing, white noise. Dib sat himself on the edge of his bed, pulling out his phone, ignoring his father as he turned and walked away.

 

It didn’t take him long to find an apartment close to the university he’d been accepted to just months before, Zim by his side as he opened the letter. He shoved the memory out of his mind. He was doing this _alone_.

 

He couldn’t even hear his own voice as he spoke to the landlord of the building. He’d agreed to put down the deposit and first six month’s rent, to show up that afternoon to sign the lease. He couldn’t hear his voice as he told his father he was moving out. He could see the distraught expression on his face, knew what it meant, but couldn’t seem to process it. The words and tone didn’t seem to make _sense_. Nothing made sense anymore.

 

Dib turned and left the place he’d once called home with no intention of ever coming back. He took the next bus up toward the building. Met with the landlord. Signed the paperwork. Keys in hand, he headed up the elevator, down the hall, and into the room. Furnished, but he’d need to go shopping.

 

-O-O-O-

 

Two years had gone by like a blur--simultaneously instant and excruciatingly slow. Dib had spent the last two years acing his classes and progressing quickly through his degree, even opting to take summer classes to try and finish his astrophysics degree as quickly as he could. Two years in, however, and on the final day of the year, Dib exited his final exam for Cosmology and headed straight for the registrar’s office--and promptly ended his degree.

 

Dib was _exhausted_ . He drowned himself in school during the day, slipping between self-harm and searching for where Zim may have ran off to at night--no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find _anything_. There was no trace of him, on Earth or otherwise. He’d returned once to Zim’s base, just to find it as empty as it was that day two years ago.

 

He’d had just about enough, and it was time to call it quits. He needed a change--more of a change than the tattoos still healing on his skin, more than razor-thin scars still healing along his arms. He felt a weight lifted from his shoulders as he made his way out of the registrar’s office and toward the bus stop, when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

 

Dib turned quickly and with a hiss, snatching the wrist of the person that grasped him and twisting it backwards, eyes narrowed. “What the fuck do you want?” he spat. He hadn’t been touched in _two years_.

 

“Dude, chill,” the words sunk into Dib’s ears and he dropped the boy’s wrist, eyes narrowed. “I’m in your class, we just took that exam together. We had a lab together last term, too.” He rubbed his wrist, taking a small step away from Dib--who did the same.

 

“Oh. What do you want?” He repeated, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his trench. He couldn’t even remember this guy, but his memory wasn’t as sharp as it used to be.

 

The other shrugged. “Look, dude, you just looked hella stressed leaving that exam, and I figured--well. I thought I could help,” he said, a grin splitting across his features. The campus was eerily quiet.

 

“How do you figure?” Dib asked, one eyebrow raising high. In response, the other said nothing, instead moving to walk past him and disappearing behind one of the buildings. Dib wasn’t _stupid_ , however, and immediately felt inside his left pocket--his hands grasping a small, very full pouch. He tugged his hand out of his pocket, palming the item as he did so, and glanced down.

 

... _Really?_ Dib rolled his eyes, shoving the substance back into his pocket. He knew _exactly_ what it was, and he didn’t want it. He made his way back home, his entire bus ride spent working the pouch between his fingers in his pocket and gnawing on his bottom lip. As he arrived home, the door clicking shut behind him, as he engaged the lock, Dib pulled the pouch out of his pocket and stared it down as if it would start peer pressuring him itself.

 

It didn’t take much longer for Dib to give in to the temptation of simply _holding it_ in his hand, and with an entire forearm, shoved everything off of his table. He emptied the pouch onto the flat surface and tugged out his wallet, plucked out his credit card and a twenty dollar bill.

 

He cut the white powder like he’d seen all of the worst and most interesting characters in movies and television shows do. Four even lines. With a deep breath and a shrug, Dib rolled the bill into a tube.

 

“What could go wrong?” he asked himself aloud, leaning down and inhaling one of the lines sharply--sending himself promptly into a coughing fit, taking a step away from the table and shaking his head, inhaling a few more short breaths through his nose and wiping away the residue with the back of his hand. _“Jesus Christ,”_ he muttered, regaining his composure as the high began to settle in. It didn’t seem to do _much_ per se, but he wasn’t so _tired_. His mood had elevated and he could feel an increase in his heart rate, just the way it had been described to him as a kid in skool, warned against the dangerous effects of the drug.

 

With another shrug, as if convincing himself it was a fine idea, Dib lowered himself and snorted line number two, head falling back with a deep breath, and the effects were two-fold. It wasn’t long before Dib had finished the contents, a little clueless as to the speed he took them with and the amount of pure cocaine in each line.

 

It wasn’t long, either, before his already heightened heart rate skyrocketed and he could feel his pulse pounding in his head, before he began to shake and shiver, before he could almost hear his phone ringing in his pocket--was he shaking or was it vibrating, too? Out of nowhere it felt as though a hand was squeezing his heart and his vision blurred and faded to black.

 

When he awoke, he couldn’t see right away. He thought for a moment that he had died--blurry white and robin’s egg blue, vague shapes standing over him, and the feeling of _holy fuck I want to do that again_. Dib felt around for his glasses, before they were placed into his hands and he put them on, staring blearily up at his father and sister, neither of whom he’d seen in two years, although Gaz called him occasionally.

 

“What the **_fuck_ ** , Dib? Seriously, **what** is wrong with you?!” Gaz snapped, her arms crossed high over her chest. “They told us you _overdosed_ . God you are _such a_ **_dumbass_ **. It’s a good thing I tried to call you. Dad’s still your emergency contact.”

 

Dib glanced awkwardly over to his father, fury already beginning to bubble in the pit of his stomach.

 

“Son, I’m _worried_ about you,” his father said, adjusting the goggles on his face, and Dib couldn’t help but sneer.

 

“ _You?_ **_Worried_** about me? Right. You haven’t even _seen_ me, I swear since the day I was born,” Dib snapped, beginning to yank the IV’s out of his arm. “Don’t give me that **_bullshit_**.”

 

“Jesus, Dib, stop--” Gaz tried to steady him, but Dib knew he had more strength than her--he shoved her aside as he stood from the bed, scanning the room for his clothes, first tugging on his jeans before discarding the robe and tugging the rest of his clothing on.

 

“Don’t, Gaz, I don’t need to hear it from you, too,” he scowled, zipping his hoodie and turning on his heel. He felt a hand firm on his bicep, halting him, and he turned to sneer at his father. “ **Don’t** touch me, **_Professor_ ** ,” he hissed through clenched jaw, yanking his arm away and storming out of the room and down the hall before they could keep talking at him and trying to lecture him.

 

 _How dare they?_ They didn’t know what he was going through, what he felt. They may have seen the scars, the tattoos, they may have found out about the cocaine, but they _knew nothing_. Especially his father. Glancing over his shoulder, Dib slipped into one of the rooms--his skills at stealthiness were wonderfully useful in grabbing whatever drug he could get his hands on before slipping back out and making his way out of the hospital and into the first cab back to his apartment.

 

That was how it began--his spiral into beasthood, as he liked to call it at four in the morning when he hadn’t slept in days, when he couldn’t get the bloodstains out of the bathroom tile, when he finally drank himself to sleep around seven. When he’d been doing lines all day and all night and absently pretending he was still looking for Zim, smoking cigarettes sitting on the floor of his porch and his computer open, but not on, next to him.

 

The next six months really _were_ a blur. The days rolled into nights and time rolled together like it didn’t matter. It didn’t, anyway, now that he had nothing to wake up for or wake up to, now that he had no responsibilities except to pay his rent and find a way to half-heartedly feed himself.

 

For the most part, Dib tended toward stimulants--caffeine and cocaine, occasionally but rarely MDMA--unless he’d been awake for days and would drink himself to sleep before he lapsed into sleep-deprived or drug-induced insanity.

 

Logically, he knew he was a mess, but he’d passed the point of caring. Six months after his overdose, as Dib shuffled under his bathroom cabinet looking for gauze-- _fuck, had he run out?--_ his hand grasped the bottle of Dilaudid he’d managed to snatch from the hospital.

 

He fell back, sitting himself on the bathroom floor, leaning against the tub and staring down at the bottle. What else had he managed to grab that day? He wondered, leaning forward again on his knees to continue digging in the cupboard, revealing exactly what he needed: single-package needles, and a bottle of Oxytocin to take the edge off. He’d never been a huge fan of needles--but then again, who was?

 

Dib popped the cap and emptied a few of the pills into the palm of his hand, staring down at them for only a moment before he slipped them into his mouth and swallowed them dry. He tore open the package and removed a pristine needle, dipping it into the bottle of Dilaudid and filling the needle what he thought was a reasonable amount. He squirted some out to ensure no air bubbles, and felt around the inside of his left arm for the vein, before carefully inserting the needle and delivering the dosage to himself.

 

The high hit him like a truck as soon as the needle was removed from his arm. The combination of Oxy and Dilaudid sent shivers wracking down his spine, euphoria filling his vision like water in a glass. He leaned back against the tub once more, his head falling back.

 

This feeling was _all too familiar_. His memory flashed back to six months ago, to waking in the hospital, yelling at his family. His vision continued to blur and his heart began pounding in his chest. He’d been drunk earlier that day--maybe he still was--he didn’t know what time it was, anyway, nor how long ago that had been.

 

He couldn’t _feel_ or _hear_ much of anything, now, and suddenly he couldn’t breathe, either. He slipped onto the floor, gasping and reaching for his phone that he instinctively knew was left in the other room. His body felt tight, like he was suffocating. The walls were closing in and he couldn’t _think_ , couldn’t _focus_.

 

He slipped quickly into darkness, grasping at air on his bloodstained bathroom floor.

 

-O-O-O-

Gaz woke with a start. Normally she would have slept through the entirety of the day as she spent the whole of the night at work. But from the moment that her eyes opened she knew that something was amiss.

 

She sat up, pulling her down quilt off of her and swinging her legs off the edge of the bed. She glanced around. Her room was exactly as it was when she had fallen asleep last night, yet she knew that there were so many things that were missing at the same time. It was a feeling of displacement that nearly made her nauseous to truly ponder.

 

Running a hand through her hair, which was also longer than she felt it should be, Gaz stood and shuffled into the kitchen of her flat to belew a pot of coffee.

 

She could not shake the feelings as she moved through her apartment.  It was not until she had her cup of coffee in hand and had opened up her laptop that realization dawned on her. Halloween 2014.

 

Dib overdosed today. She knew that this happened. She could remember sitting at the side of his hospital bed. She could recall each terrible thing that she had said to him that day. It had already happened. She had done this before. Or, it felt like it had.

 

She picked up her phone to call her brother and it felt as if she had been dropped into a tub of ice water. She remembered calling Dib. The sound of a gunshot. She could recall time looping and her brother and Zim coming to her to take the TakShip.

 

Why was this happening again? Something terrible had to have transpired.

 

She grabbed her coat and keys and bolted out the door, hoping she would make it in time to get Dib the help that she instinctively knew that he needed.

 

-O-O-O-

 

Zim woke with a start. His body had suffered such extensive damage that it had been forced into a sleep status for the last five days as his PAK healed broken bones and regrow his skin, leaving more pink and mint green scars on his body. The Irken tugged at the restraints on his wrists, but they were strong enough that he only managed to hurt his wrists as the metal bit into him.

 

It was commonplace at this point that when he would fall into a sleep cycle of any kind he would be plagued with nightmares. But this one seemed even more real than any of the others that he had experienced.  He could almost feel the electricity still coursing through his body. He could still see Dib's eyes glazing over as he foamed at the mouth and twitched unnaturally from the poison in his veins.

 

He took a deep breath as he reoriented himself with the lab, trying to shake off the hallucinations and even the perceived smell of blood that his mind told him should be coating the walls and floor.

 

He could tell that it was nearly sunset, his PAK keeping time for him diligently.  He also knew that it was Halloween. He wondered briefly if Dib might be getting ready for a human costume party out there somewhere.  He wondered also what the human might choose to be for the night.

 

Thoughts like this did not help with his depression or his feelings of hopelessness. But he could not help but to hope that out there Dib had found happiness without him. Years had passed. Dib might have found a partner. He might be getting smeets of his own ready for the trick or treatings. The thought made him sick to his stomach but he found it comforting in other ways.

 

He could hear the movements of scientists out in the hallway and knew that it was quite nearly time for the professor to be starting his shift. It was a realization that made him wish he was still shut down. The professor extended to leave him be if he was not conscious.  Harder to gather useful information of your subject cannot react.

 

His back was to the door with how the standing gurney was placed in the room but he was acutely aware of the door opening and the sound of heavy footfalls on the floor. The Irken let out a soft sigh and was prepared to offer a witty quip to the professor, the banter usually making him feel a little better about the situation in which he was going to find himself, even if the human who looked strikingly like his hi skool boyfriend very seldomly responded. But the words caught in his throat when Membrane came into view.

 

The human had removed his signature goggles, tossing them onto the workbench in front of the Irken. He took a lean on the bench, glaring at the alien. Zim looked up at him and immediately noticed a garish scar along the human's jaw and cheek. Exactly like the one he had given him in his nightmare.  

 

Zim's eyes widened and he shook his head slightly as he mumbled, “There is no way… how?”

 

The professor grinned at the question, pushing himself off of the workbench before addressing the alien, “I had been worried that you would not remember, _Zim_. However,” he said as he pulled a taser out of his lab coat pocket, “since you do... None of this should come as a surprise.”

-O-O-O-

When light returned to Dib’s eyes, it was almost blinding. Everything was white, and he had a _splitting_ headache. It took a few moments for him to realize where exactly he was.

 

Ah. The hospital. He recalled, vaguely, the doctor telling him some kids and their parents had stumbled upon him while trick-or-treating. Right. It was Halloween.

 

It took another few moments to realize that 1, that hadn’t actually happened yet, and 2, his mind was flooded with memories of events that shouldn’t have been possible. The future, almost. Had he been dreaming? Or, having nightmares, more accurately, in his drug-induced state? In a blink, it all came rushing back to him as a tidal wave. His eyes snapped open and he sat up in bed, scanning the room.

 

Gaz was asleep on the chair next to him. The doctor hadn’t returned yet. These weren’t _dreams_ . It was _real_ and he knew that.

 

Dib had woken up here once before. This had _already happened_. Except, Gaz wasn’t here the first time. Just the doctor, eyeing him disappointedly as he read his chart, recommended that he go to narcotics anonymous, and then jibe that at least he should have made sure to shut the door properly so that children wouldn’t find him bleeding out and foaming at the mouth on the bathroom floor.

 

As he sat, his breathing coming in heavy gasps, watching Gaz, he remembered his father. The feeling of the needle slipping into his throat. Looking back at the man in shock and horror. He knew the man was capable of many horrible things. He did not think filicide was one of them.

 

And Zim… collapsing on the floor just out of his grasp. Convulsing under the current coursing through him. Rage bubbled in the pit of Dib’s stomach and he let out an audible growl, tearing the IVs from his arms and throwing the blankets off of him.

 

“Gaz, get up,” he said, loudly enough to rouse her, “We have to go.”

 

Gaz had made it to her brother's apartment to find him overdosing on the bathroom floor. She knew that she would never be able to get the image out of her mind. She had seen some truly gruesome images in her day through video games and movies, but nothing could have prepared her for her big brother blue in the face and choking on his own vomit and spit.

 

She had managed to get him help before it was too late. She had driven behind the ambulance directly to the hospital and stayed at his side as he was stabilized.  After several hours she had finally given in to sleep, nodding off in a chair, her chin propped up in her hand.

 

At the sound of Dib's voice her head shot upward, it only took just a second to be completely conscious.  She grabbed Dib by the arms, holding him in place with a firm grip as she demanded, “What the fuck happened, Dib? Why did we loop again? Do you know what I am talking about?”

 

Dib almost yelped when Gaz grabbed him. The speed in which she awoke and practically assaulted him with her questioning shocked him. It didn’t take long to recover, and he shook his head.

 

“I don’t know, Gaz. I thought it was--I thought it was all over. Dad--that _monster_ \--he got us both, Gaz. Zim and I. We couldn’t get past him. Fuck, and to think, I was gonna--” Dib was going to spare his life. That sure as shit wasn’t happening now.

 

“Listen,” he snapped, tugging away from her and scanning the room for his clothing. He wasn’t even sure he’d want to put them back on. They were revolting last time, and he’d had to cab home in them. “We have to go. Zim is _still there_ . They’ve got him at the Foundation and if we don’t _do something_ \--” he couldn’t even imagine what his father was doing as they spoke. “We have to go.” He was stammering, he couldn’t seem to control the words coming out of his mouth--a habit that he’d managed to quell after four years of heavy drug use.

 

This time, it had actually only been six months. While the time skips posed some questions regarding his age and the progression of events, he knew he didn’t have time to think on it. He stored those questions in a box in the back of his mind, and kept prattling on. “If you’ve got the Takship, then we need to get to the Foundation and get Zim out of there. Dad’s been experiencing the repeats, too. I’m not sure why we jumped back so far, but I guarantee he remembers. And I’m sure he’s not going to let Zim live for long. We have to help him. I need my bat.”

 

Gaz had known that something may have gone horribly wrong. But she had never imagined that it could have been as abhorrent as what Dib eluded to.

 

Their father had never show Dib much love. Dib had always been seen as crazy. As less than what the professor had hoped for. But for him to put Dib down? It was grotesque.  It was sickening. Heartbreaking.

 

Gaz nodded at her brother, lifting one hand to his cheek. She had never been kind to him either. Never had she been as cruel as their father. But she had never given him any semblance of warmth or understanding.

 

She dropped her hand and stood, grabbing a bag of clothing that she had grabbed from Dib's apartment when she was there and handed it to him. “I have the TakShip. We can get to my apartment, get in the ship. I didn't grab your bat, but I have mine and you can have it… and my pistol.”

 

She turned around to let her brother dress with some privacy. As he pulled on the clothes she had given him Gaz continued, “On the way to my house, you tell me what you two need. I will get everything while you get Zim. I will have everything waiting for the two of you. And I will start looking into funeral arrangements for the professor.”

 

“ _Fuck_ the professor,” Dib snapped harshly, the first words to exit his mouth after Gaz spoke, tugging the clothing on as quickly as he could, shoving his feet into his boots. “I’ll take both the bat and the--why in the shit do you have a pistol?” he asked, turning to his sister with an incredulous expression on his face.

 

“You know what? It’s a difficult time out there for girls. I’ll try to remember to give the pistol back before Zim and I take off,” he shrugged, making his way to the door and tugging it open. He checked the hallways--he was sure they wouldn’t want him to leave without checking out, but they had no time to waste. Thankfully, it was late, and thus it was quiet. They shouldn’t have a problem getting out quickly and easily.

 

As he lead them down the hallway-- _very_ purposefully avoiding any store rooms. He didn’t need to grab drugs, and in fact, he didn’t want to this time. What a wake-up call. He took a slow breath as he lead Gaz toward the main doors. “Any food and clothing you could grab would be great,” he said, snatching packages of medical supplies off a cart in the hall as they passed it. “Really, just, anything you can think of that might be useful to us on our trip.”

 

Glancing over his shoulder to make sure Gaz was still following, he was honestly surprised when they made it out into the parking lot not having been seen by anybody. It was disquieting, and put him on edge for what he knew was coming. “Do you have a car?”

 

Gaz had to practically jog to keep up with her older brother. He was much taller and his strides much longer than hers, but she definitely managed to keep pace with him. When they got out to the parking lot she scoffed once at him and responded dryly, “Nope, I flew here, Dib. Of course I have a car.”

 

She lead him into the parking garage and unlocked her pink Volkswagen Beetle, opening the door for him before climbing into the driver seat. She threw the car into gear and sped toward her own house at far above the posted speed limit.

 

As they drove Gaz swerved around several vehicles and turned onto the freeway, commenting in disbelief, “I can’t believe dad fucking killed you, dude.”

 

Dib rolled his eyes at his sister’s sarcastic jibe, but followed her toward her car-- _completely_ unsurprised when faced with the pink bug. He had to fight off the second eye roll, but did let a smile tug at the corner of his mouth as he hopped in, adjusting the passenger’s seat as far back as it would go to accommodate the amount of legroom. It was still pretty small, all things considered, but knowing he’d be spending the next who-the-fuck-knows-how-long crammed into a ship of about the same size, he’d have to get used to it.

 

Absently, he clutched the ‘oh shit’ handle on the roof of the vehicle. Not because he was uncomfortable with Gaz’s fast driving, simply to distract some of the tension in his body as they made his way toward her house.

 

“I know, right? Who the fuck does that?” Dib asked, his brow furrowing. He adjusted his glasses, his spare hand trailing around to see if he could feel the puncture mark on his neck. He couldn’t, of course, although the bullet wound from round one was still there, and still healing. He supposed that, technically, it had only been a couple of days since he’d been shot.

 

Zim would have a nasty wound on his shoulder. Dib’s jaw set in a hard clench, and his features twisted into a vehement anger. The man could kill him forty more times and it wouldn’t encapsulate the rage he felt at what they all had done to Zim.

 

Gaz wove in and out of traffic, as if her Beetle was a race car, but she did it with precision- her hand eye coordination was astounding from years of gaming. She gave her brother a chuckle, but it was mirthless, nothing about this situation was funny. She responded coldly, “Apparently our father does that. Well, if nothing else we can officially say that I am the favourite kid at this point.”

 

She nudged Dib with her elbow as they drove and added, “You will get him this time. I know it. It is just like a video game. You are on your third life. It has got to be this time, right?”

 

She pulled off the freeway and turned into her own neighbourhood. As she made the turns towards her house she confirmed their plan, “When we get to the house I will get you my shit and you will go rescue your ‘mate’ and commit patricide. While you are gone I will put some clothes together for Zim. I will probably just give him some of mine that are too small to save on time. I will, however, stop at dad's and grab the pictures you made such a huge deal out of.”

 

She killed the engine once they were parked and turned toward Dib, “When you have Zim you get back here. We will stock TakShip and get you out of here. Try not to fuck it up this time, Dib.”

 

Dib listened closely to his sister as she went through the plan and gave him the instructions. He simply nodded, opting to let her speak this time instead of filling the vehicle with the sound of his own voice--which he tended to do often, before he holed himself up in his room with nobody to talk to but himself for four years straight. He’d grown tired of hearing it.

 

He couldn’t silence the thoughts, however.

 

Once they parked, he turned to Gaz and nodded. “I won’t. I have an odd feeling there won’t be a next time if I do,” he said, taking a long breath before he hopped out of the Beetle and stretched tall. “Alright, go get me the bat and the pistol. I’ll get the Takship ready.”

 

Dib immediately beelined for the Takship in the garage, opening the door and hopping inside. Although the cruiser was small, and had less legroom than Gaz’s car, he always felt at home whenever he was in one of the ships. Zim had taken him for a few rides in his own voot during high school once they started dating.

 

They’d never get the happy ending he imagined back then. Absently, Dib felt around in the pockets of his trench, a small smile gracing his lips through all of the other emotions as he felt the velvet box--the very same he’d held on to for the last six years. Technically, now, two and a half. He shook off the time-confusion once more, powering up the cruiser while he waited for Gaz to bring him what he needed.

 

He also turned and reached behind the passenger seat, opening the panel and tugging out the first aid kit he now knew was there. Whatever drug that was Zim used last time--he knew he’d need it, for both of them potentially. He tucked in the supplies he had poached from the hospital-- _God_ that had been too easy--and placed the kit on the seat next to him. He wanted it within reach.

 

Gaz ran into her house and quickly made her way into her room. She dropped to her knees beside her bed and tugged the lock box from beneath it. Inside there was a 9mm pistol and a box of ammunition.  She had never had occasion to use the gun outside of a shooting range, but she lived on her own in the city and the knowledge that it was there helped her sleep easier at night. She emptied the box of its contents and grabbed her baseball bat on her way out of the room.

 

Both she and her brother were quite skilled with bats, regardless of neither of them ever playing baseball. It was a rough city on the best of days and they had to learn to take care of themselves from very young. Her bat was vividly purple and had piggie stickers all over it. While it might not be Dib's grunge aesthetic, she figured that he would forgive her for it.

 

Gaz practically ran to the garage, wondering briefly how her life had become this mad and trying to wrap her head around the fact that after tonight she would very likely be an orphan. And would probably never see her stupid big brother again.

 

She grabbed her purple messenger bag which was covered in piggie patches and dumped the ammunition and pistol inside, setting the bag on the seat next of the Runner and extended the bat in her hand for the boy to take. She hesitated for just a heartbeat. Farewells were never her strong suit, neither were ‘I love yous,’ so she settled on a brief grin and said, “Give ‘em Hell, Dib.”

 

Dib gratefully accepted the items Gaz gave him, eyeing the bat curiously, but not with surprise. He tucked the bat between the seats, rolled his shoulders back, and took a deep breath. “I’ll give ‘em more than Hell, Gaz,” he said, casting his sister a cheeky wink before he revved up the Voot, shut the doors, and lifted the cruiser off the ground.

 

He had a general idea of the direction, so while he steered toward the Foundation, he input the coordinates Zim had given him last time. He had a damn good memory, and was immediately thankful for that, without Zim’s notes to rely on this time. Dib initiated the cloaking as soon as he could, pulling the Takship high into the air, and letting the ship do the rest of the work for him while he rolled his plan around in his head. At the speed he was taking, it wouldn’t take long to reach the Foundation, tucked into the woods on the outskirts of the city.

 

He was going to rip _the professor_ a new asshole when he found him.

 

First, he needed to find Zim. He didn’t want to think about what those men, particularly his father, were doing to him. Especially now, especially since his father would remember everything from the repeats as well. If Gaz did, and he did--there was no doubt that the man would remember everything from his six years of experimentation and torture. He’d have enough information, he’d be ready to-- **_no_ **. He couldn’t think about that, now. He needed to be fast.

 

He needed to be the old Dib again. Determined, and passionate. Ready to fight with gusto, with every ounce of rage that he’d had bubbling inside of him since Zim found his way back. For the last six years. For everything.

 

 _‘Dar a Alguien en la Torre,’_ he thought to himself, clenching and unclenching his hands as the Foundation came quickly into view. Dib slowed his pace, steadied himself for landing on the roof--the same place that they had landed last time. He’d be able to get in this way. He had his keys from the hospital; he could lockpick the door just the same and make his way through. They’d find GIR after he got to Zim.

 

Once landed, Dib grabbed the  messenger bag, glancing over at the first aid kit. He tucked that inside as well, and shouldered the bag before he grabbed the bat and made his way toward the door. He doubted he’d need the gun, himself--he’d give it to Zim while they were on their way out. He always preferred a bat when situations got dire.

 

Kneeling down to lockpick pick it, and carefully opening the door. He did it in almost half the speed this time--in a hurry and without the chance to be proud of himself for doing so. He slipped inside quietly, making his way down to the first landing, and stopped.

 

There was a shadow just visible from his position on the stairs, lengthened by the odd flickering fluorescent lighting. Why do stairwells _always_ have to be creepy? He rolled his eyes, adjusting the position of his bat as he carefully stepped down toward the landing, peeking around the corner. Some poor sap was leaning against the wall on the landing, staring into his phone and having a smoke.

 

Sorry, dude.

 

In one swift movement, Dib spun himself around the corner, grabbing the guy by the collar of his shirt and whacking his head against the wall. He man hardly had a chance to be surprised, letting out a pained yelp before he slumped to the floor, cigarette still burning.

 

Dib eyed the man, passed out on the floor, only momentarily. He could see him breathing--but there was a part of him that wished he wasn’t. With a sigh, he knelt down and tugged off his ID tag, reversed it so the picture was facing his chest, and put it on. He also fished through his pockets and tugged out a set of keys and a pack of smokes and a lighter.

 

He pocketed the items himself, not bothering with any of the uniform. He didn’t need a disguise--better yet, he didn’t want one. He wanted _everyone_ to know _exactly_ who he was. Reaching up, he brushed his hand through his hair and made his way down the rest of the stairs and to the very same door he and Zim were faced with before. Testing the key card, he heard the audible buzz and click of the door unlocking, and slipped his way through.

 

Eyeing the cameras, he shrugged and walked past them. There was no disabling them from here, and he was sure his father already knew he’d be on his way. As he reached the middle of the hallway, a shrill, horrifying shriek--muffled only slightly by doors and walls--resounded through the halls. His rage returning full-force, Dib clutched the bat tightly and taking off in a sprint toward the sound.

 

Unfortunately for him, alarms had been sounded--he was spotted on the cameras. He could hear the footsteps behind him of the Task Force Operatives. Spinning on his heel, he turned to face them, unsurprised by the three men aiming their assault rifles right at him. A sick grin split across Dib’s face.

 

As they began to shoot, Dib lept toward them, skidding along the smooth flooring at their feet, bullets whizzing past--the sound was deafening at such close range, but he had managed to get close enough below them to swipe two of the men off their feet with the bat and onto the ground. Hauling himself back up, he swung the bat hard twice--knocking the rifle out of the third man’s hand, the second cracking him upside the head and knocking him down.

 

The other two scrambling to rise, Dib twisted toward them as well. They were still off-balance and now unprepared with their weapons. A shot flew into the floor by his foot just before he managed to break a wrist and then send one man crashing into the other. A fourth swing and he was down--he didn’t need a fifth, the third shot front-and-centre: friendly fire.

 

Another bubbling shriek echoed, and Dib turned to follow it without another glance at the dead ‘soldiers’ on the ground, if they could even be called that. The alarm continued to ring overhead, the hallways flashing between bright white and red light, mimicking a ghoulish strobe light. At the speed he was running, Dib almost ran right past the room--he skidded to a halt and backpedaled, glancing only once into the window before he stepped back and kicked his heel hard into the door above the lock and knob, crashing it open with a bang, bat raised above his head and fire in his eyes as he stared down his father--

 

also taking in the sight of his mate, submerged in a large vat of water, struggling to free himself as it bubbled and burned his skin.

 

Dib spun the bat once in the air, the words a venomous snarl as he spoke. “Let him go.”

 

Membrane had taken out his frustration on the alien, pumping enough electricity into him to render the being unconscious. Once the was done he had unhooked the Irken from his restraints, throwing the tiny body over his shoulder and carried him to the isolation tanks. The tanks were clear, from an outside perspective. Anyone inside them, however, would only see darkness.

 

He had wrenched the alien's PAK off of his body, tossing it onto the workbench in the room before dropping Zim into the water and locking the tank. As he expected, Zim did not remain unconscious for long. He had diligently documented the sheer amounts of pain that water caused him as it eroded his skin. The only difference this time was that he would not have his PAK to heal the damage as it was done.

 

The professor looked up as the door was kicked open to reveal his son, once again, waving a baseball bat in his face. Membrane let out an exasperated sigh and unholstered the revolver he had beneath his lab coat, leveling it at his doppelganger as he sneered, “I think not. How many times am I going to have to kill you, _son_?”

 

Dib almost _laughed_ at the words that fell from the man’s mouth, dropping his shoulders and casually swinging the bat in the air. “If you think you’re going to catch me off guard this time, think again.”

 

With a quick glance around the room, he spotted Zim’s PAK. He’d have about eight minutes--if that, considering the extensive damage being caused by the water--to _exterminate_ the man in front of him. He adjusted his stance, pre-emptively ducking his head to avoid the shot as he made his way toward the professor, bat extended.

 

There was no time to _talk_.

 

The professor had let off a single shot which the boy managed to avoid. He had to move to avoid the bat that came swinging directly toward his face. He launched himself into a sideways roll, coming back up onto his feet as he shot again. Another miss, but this one lodged directly into the isolation tank holding the Irken, leaving web like cracks along the casing.

 

It didn't matter.

 

Soon the damage to the Irken would be extensive enough that he would die. The professor did not care if he made it out of this, not really. He would be satisfied knowing that the tiny abomination was destroyed. Even if his son did manage to kill him. He would win anyway.

 

The older male laughed deviously he fired another two rounds at his clone, making sure that he aimed far more carefully.  

 

Dib managed to miss the round that landed itself into the isolation tank, glancing over to see the glass beginning to shatter on the impact. _Good_. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to dodge both of the following rounds, distracted by his father’s sickening laugh.

 

The first round was a near miss, the second tore into the flesh of his left bicep, eliciting a sharp yelp and an angry, pained growl. He almost dropped the bat, but his right arm followed through and he clutched it tighter. Okay. He could still do this one-handed. He had never been _weak_ by any means. While the last six years took quite a number out of him physically, he didn’t have to worry about that so much now. He felt like he had _so much energy_.

 

Energy, and fury.

 

At the gunshot wound to his arm, Dib decided to switch up his strategy. He rose the bat into the air, running full-tilt directly towards the man. The following shot was another near miss, soaring into the wall behind him. At this close quarters, it was a lot easier to miss than people expect. Including his father.

 

As soon as he was in close enough range, Dib dropped to the low-ground again--flinging the baseball bat with all of his strength into one of the man’s knees, his insides flooded with a feeling of intense satisfaction at the audible crunch and shatter of metal breaking bone.

 

Membrane shouted loudly as the bat made contact with his knee, causing his leg to bend at an unnatural angle and collapse beneath him. He sneered up at the boy and fired another round at him.

 

The bullet lodged into the metal bat that came down at him again, making contact with his side. He let out a throaty growl as his finger pulled down on the trigger again, the barrel of his revolver aimed directly at his clone's face.

 

The click that followed seemed almost deafening. But there was nothing in the barrels to project toward the clone. He had run out of ammunition and would have to dig through his pocket for more. Instead he threw the spent gun at the boy and launched himself at him, leading with his shoulder towards Dib's knees. The movement made his knee crunch sickeningly, but the pain did very little to deter his action.

 

With a whine of pain, Dib rose his free arm to protect against the gun being thrown at his face. He’d been unsurprised that the gun was empty, and didn’t flinch when it was pointed at him, but didn’t expect either the gun to be tossed at him or for Membrane to throw himself into his knees through the pain of shattered bone.

 

Dib collapsed onto the ground, his grip on the bat slackening, but managing to keep hold. _Seriously?_ He managed to wonder; he didn’t have _time_ for this. Dib hauled one of his feet free from under the weight of his father--the same now in height, but his father was far stockier. It took a moment of struggling, but once he got his foot free, he pulled it as close to his chest as he could muster, then kicked out as hard as he could, slamming hard into the man’s face and successfully cracking the goggles that he wore.

 

As Membrane recoiled in pain--he’d have one hell of a broken nose, and potentially some glass in his eye, Dib scooched away from him and into a stand, hurrying toward the isolation tank, bat in hand. No time to waste.

 

Pushing through the pain coursing through his bicep, he gripped the bat with both hands, recoiled, and swung the bat into the tank. The glass cracked further, beginning to splinter and send spurts of water flowing out onto the floor at his feet. One final swing and the tank shattered upon impact. Get Zim out of the water and to his PAK--he could deal with his father once Zim was safe.

 

Zim had come back into consciousness only a moment or two after being dropped into the tank of water. The pain of it made all the more excruciating by the absence of his PAK. There was no healing the damage, no regulation of his pain receptors. Not only was the pain immense, he could feel himself dying without the computer on which his existence relied.

 

The inner walls of the tank were round, it was impossible to maintain any kind of grip to keep his head above water. As his body failed him he would slip beneath the surface, gagging on the acidic liquid as it destroyed his flesh.

 

After all of his adventures and misdeeds - this would be how it ended.

 

He had so little strength left. He could feel his mind starting to slip as well.

 

For a moment, he thought he could hear Dib.

 

He did not have any more fight left in him and so, he began to allow himself to succumb to his fate.

 

Then there was a sound that echoed through the isolation tank like a bomb had gone off, leaving a ringing in his mind. Then he saw it, cracks of light.

 

Zim pounded his fists against the fracture, trying to break it. Even his best efforts were not enough. In the back of his mind he knew instinctively that he had just under two minutes left.

 

Then there was another explosive bang, and another, and another. It made him feel as though his head was splitting, but the light was also getting brighter. With a final crash the glass broke around him and Zim was able to gasp a lungful of air.

 

Dib hauled Zim off the ground the moment the glass shattered. He didn’t have time to be gentle, which filled him immediately with guilt, but he tugged the Irken as far as he could away from the water pooling onto the floor--toward the workbench where his PAK sat.

 

“It’s gonna be okay, don’t worry,” Dib said, rushed, as he reached up and grabbed the device, casting a worried glance at his father still struggling on the floor. He wouldn’t be able to stand, at least. He had a minute. “I’ve got you,” he attempted to reassure, adjusting the both of them so he could hold the PAK to his love, watching in the very same awe as always as the heavy cording jutted out into Zim’s back and the device attached itself. Once the PAK was reunited with its host, Dib scrambled for the bag, tugging out the first aid kit and searching for the medication they had used last time.

 

Once retrieved, he followed the motions Zim had used, pressing the device into Zim’s neck to let the medication work its magic. He tugged Zim to the wall, leaning him carefully against it before he stood, plucking his bat off the floor as he did so.

 

He was going to finish what he started. He practically sauntered toward his father, bat slack in the grip of his right hand, and eyes dark, the bloody water puddles splashing beneath his boots.

 

Zim was incredibly disoriented as he was lifted from the water. He was quickly losing the abilities to form coherent thought. But he was able to recognize the smell of the human that lifted him. He couldn't put a name to it, but knew that the smell meant safety.

 

It was like a surge of power when his PAK reattached to his spine, the computer interface interweaving with his very nervous system. The room came into focus as he was leaned against the wall, his legs giving out beneath his weight.

 

He slid down the wall, collapsing onto the floor but there was a grin that tugged at the corner of his lips.

 

 _It was Dib_.

 

Dib came for him. Just like he had spent so many nights pleading with the universe for. Praying for, even.  He knew that Dib would never abandon him to this fate. And now, he was here.

 

The professor had fallen back to the ground with a shout when Dib's boot had connected with his face. His goggles were shattered, the tempered glass digging into his eyes and leaving him blind. The human tried to tug the shards out, but knew that it was of very little use.

 

But he did not need his eyes. There were many scientific advancements that could more than compensate. He abandoned the attempt and instead felt the ground, trying to locate the boy's discarded bat. The tips of his fingers had just made contact with it when it was lifted from the ground, the sound of his son’s boots heavy around him.   
  
Dib stood over the form of his father, reaching out now for nothing. The man looked absolutely pathetic. With a hard roll of his eyes, he rose his boot to kick into the man’s shoulder, rolling him over. He knew that Membrane couldn’t see him. It was regretful, honestly. He’d like the man to know exactly what he intended to do.

 

“Zim’s alive, you piece of shit,” Dib snarled, spitting into Membrane’s face from where he stood, looming over him. The alarms continued to ring. He could hear the heavy footfalls of the task force making their way toward the room. “You failed. Again,” he said, raising the bat high into the air. _“Fuck you.”_

 

Dib’s final words were accentuated with the swing of his bat, cracking the metal object into the side of the professor’s face. His goggles were ripped off his head, blood splattering onto the ground and onto Dib’s boots.

 

He didn’t look at Zim while he brought the bat down a second time, the crunching of the man’s jawbone resonating in the pit of his stomach.

 

He didn’t look up when the door swung open and the operatives stopped and stared in shock, and brought the bat down a third time, splattering blood further into the pools of water on the floor, up the legs of his pants, kicking back into his hands.

 

He couldn’t turn away--and found he couldn’t seem to control himself even though he knew, logically, the professor had taken his last breath. He swung again, four, shattering skull beneath the metal with a sickening crunch and splat as the bone collapsed beneath the weight of the swing.

 

Dib didn’t drop the bat once he had finished his gruesome assault. He turned, slowly, raising his eyes to the men standing in the doorway. His head cocked to the side with a deep-set smirk tugging at his lips. The phrase, _my poor, insane son_ ricocheted around his skull as he spun the bat in the air, his other arm limp at his left side.

 

“Come and get me, motherfuckers,” he snarled, working his left arm through the pain to grip the bat again, running purely on rage and adrenaline, his vision tunneled on the men in front of him. He could feel another shot plunge into his right shoulder just in the flesh below his collarbone. It didn’t slow him down, and with a heavy _thwack_ his bat connected with the side of another man’s head.

 

He cast a sharp glance to Zim. “There’s a pistol in that bag,” he snapped, to the point, no time, spinning the opposite direction to crack the baseball bat into the ribs of another one of the men as he raised his gun to shoot, knocking him hard onto the ground.

 

Zim had managed to lift himself up, mostly with the use of his PAK legs as Dib proceeded to not only kill but mangle his father's remains. It was a brutal enough display that even the war hardened Irken was lost for words for a moment.

 

The human turned and began facing off against the operatives and Zim felt useless for a moment until he heard the instruction called back to him. He scrambled to the purple messenger bag that had been discarded and pulled out the glock. It was pristinely oiled and already loaded, which was a relief.

 

Unlike the professor, Zim was a soldier who had trained with firearms his entire life. He leveled the gun and let of four shots in quick succession, taking out the remaining operatives that had been closing in on Dib.

 

In the aftermath Zim ripped the soaking wet medical gown that he had been wearing off of his body to prevent further water damage. He grabbed a fresh smock and tied it loosely around his frame before addressing the boy with hints of playfulness evident in his hoarse voice, “Took you long enough, Stink.”

 

Once the men were down, Dib stood still, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he panted, the bat slackening in his hand. It took a moment for Zim’s voice to resonate in his ears, and to understand what the other was saying. He looked over his shoulder, offering a weak smile. “Longer than you know, babe.”

 

He took a deep breath, kneeling down to pick up one of the rifles, checking the clip before tugging the strap around his shoulder and standing once again. “But we don’t have time for that now. We have to get GIR and get out of here. The Takship is on the roof,” he said, walking over to Zim and looking the Irken up and down--really taking him in.

 

“Christ…” he murmured. The wounds were beginning to heal themselves, and he hoped the medication was doing enough for the pain that Zim would be okay on their way out. The Foundation would be in high alert. There were cameras in all of the rooms.

 

Shaking, he reached out and carefully took one of Zim’s hands in his own. He still wasn’t processing the pain from his wounds. “I love you. Let’s get out of here and kick some ass while we’re at it, yeah?”

 

Zim had reached out, tentatively taking the human's hand. It was the first kind and gentle touch that he had experienced in years. The feeling of warmth from the human's skin was enough to fill the Irken with feelings he had all but forgotten he had the ability to feel. But then Dib surprised him further by so easily letting his declaration of love fall from his lips.

 

They were words that the both of them had avoided, tiptoed around for so many years. And Zim had doused the boy in scalding hot chocolate last time he had attempted to give them voice.

 

The Irken nodded once at the boy, still not entirely sure that he was processing everything that was happening around him. He shouldered the purple messenger bag and moved to follow the human's lead, responding in a quiet and cracking voice, “I… Dib - I am so sorry, for everything.”

 

Dib turned and lead Zim out of the room before the other had a chance to speak, but listened to the other carefully. “I have far more to be sorry about, believe me,” he muttered, clutching his bat tightly as he turned down the hall. The ringing of the alarm was going to give him a headache, although he realized that was the least of his concerns.

 

“Do you remember where they’re keeping GIR?” he asked, stopping mid-step to look over his shoulder at the Irken behind him. “If so, lead the way. We can talk about everything once we get back to the roof.”

 

Zim followed Dib into the hallway, a part of him intensely confused about what on Earth Dib could possibly have to be sorry for. But another part understood that there had been more to his nightmare than what seemed possible.

 

The Irken nodded once and pulled the boy along after him. If GIR was still functioning, he knew the room he was being kept in. The sound of his bare feet slapping against the polished floor mingled with Dib's heavy boots echoed throughout the hallway as they ran. Even the small excursion left Zim feeling remarkably drained. By the time they reached GIR's door he had to heavily lean on the human for support. He slipped open the door in front of him and stepped inside the room.

 

Almost immediately he was greeted by a voice that was quite nearly familiar. GIR had been hooked to a steady course of electrical current which was scrambling his positronic brain. Limiting his functions to render him restrained. But even with the additional static and glitchy vibrato in his voice there was no mistaking the squeal of. “Master!? Marry!”

 

Zim released the hold on Dib's hand and rushed forward, quickly unhooking the tiny robot from the tangle of wires.

 

Once the robot was free Zim commanded, “GIR. Run a diagnostic on your weapons system. Is it still online?”

 

The android had been smiling up at the Irken but his eyes suddenly flashed red and in a deeper voice he replied, “ **Yes, Master! Weapons systems are fully functional**.”

 

“Good,” Zim replied quickly. “We are going to need them. We are going to have to fight our way to the roof. _Come on,_ GIR.”

 

GIR leapt suddenly from his containment unit and swiftly moved to the door before turning back toward the pair, his eyes once again brilliantly blue, “Then-- _we're gettin’_ **_TACOS_ **!”

 

The Irken let out an exasperated sigh. They did not have time for this, “ _No,_ **_GIR_ **. We are not getting ta--”

 

The response came in the form of a shrill shriek, “ **MARRY PROMISED WE'D GET TACOS! HE SAID NEXT WEEKEND. HE SAID NEXT WEEKEND TWO AND A HALF YEARS AGO!** ”

 

Zim growled deep in his throat, readying his weapon and walking towards the door, glancing out into the hallway before calling back, “We have to _get out_ before tacos are even _close_ to an option, GIR. So _how about_ you clear the soldiers out of our path and we will _talk_ about tacos in the Voot?”

 

In a flash the tiny bot’s eyes were once again crimson. He gave a salute and shouted, “ **Yes, Master! I OBEY!** ”

 

As the android rushed from the room Zim took a lean on the doorframe and looked back at the human, holding out his hand once again for the boy to take. The Irken was wounded from head to toe and he sounded beyond exhausted but he still managed to have an edge of mirth in his voice as he said, “You would not believe how much I missed him.”

 

Dib couldn’t help but to laugh as he watched Zim and GIR together. It almost felt like they’d spent no time apart--it hadn’t been six years, it hadn’t even been two and a half. It was like Christmas, joining forces and fighting with each other to save humanity.

 

“I can absolutely believe that.” His smile was strained. Zim took off on him once to try and save him. They both died because of it. The second time, they came here purely to save GIR. They both died because of it, again. With a shaky breath--bubbling to tell Zim everything, he turned on his heel and poised the bat. “We have to go. There’s so much I want to tell you, but now is _not_ the time.”

 

With that, he lead the other two down the hall. An announcement sounded overhead.

 

**“Attention all Secure, Contain, and Protect personnel. There has been a Keter level breach at Foundation headquarters. All personnel are to be on high alert. This is not a drill. Initiate defence protocol. I repeat. This is not a drill. Initiate defence protocol.”**

 

The ringing continued as the voice cleared the air. The flashing of the deep red and stark white lights above made him feel all the more anxious; he felt like he was playing some first-person horror game. Dib glanced anxiously to Zim, giving his hand a squeeze. “Good thing those weapons systems are engaged. If you need more ammunition, there’s more in the bag. This isn’t going to be easy.”

 

As soon as he finished speaking, the doors at the end of the hall swung open. Dib couldn’t help but to groan and roll his eyes. “I’m starting to get _really sick of having_ **_guns pointed at my face!_ ** ”

 

Zim hurried after the boy, wanting to ask him to elaborate but knowing that it was not the time or place. They would have all the time in the universe to talk, to sort all of it out. Right now, the focus had to be on getting out of here in one piece.

 

He saw the doors burst open, letting in a flood of soldiers. There was a part of him that was terrified at the sight, conditioned to believe that these men had power over him. Another part burned with passion and vengeance, knowing that his time of justice was upon him.

 

Dib's words met him and the Irken managed a laugh as he rushed forward, firing into the mob of soldiers heading their way, “If you do not want guns in your face maybe you should have chosen your boyfriend more wisely, Stink.”

 

Dib laughed at Zim’s retort, keeping himself out of Zim’s way as he barreled himself into the soldiers coming at them with his bat. He managed quite successfully to knock a rifle out of a man’s hands, tilting him off balance as he cracked another upside the head.

 

He was going to be _covered_ in blood by the end of this. He was also extraordinarily thankful for GIR in this moment, and relieved for more than just Zim’s mental well-being that they retrieved him. The lasers he shot from his eyes into the soldiers was _wildly_ helpful, considering their sheer numbers.

 

As they made their way slowly down the hallway and toward the stairs, the men seemed to come at them in waves. They did well, all things considered--until Dib got the butt end of one of the soldier’s assault rifles to the face, staggering him and cracking his glasses. _“Oh--son of a_ **_FUCK_ ** ,” he shouted, almost losing grip of his bat as he stumbled backward. A gunshot whizzed past his head, and he turned to look--GIR   _and_ Zim both had his back. He couldn’t help but grin.

 

Once the hall had emptied, and they made their way to the stairs, he knew they’d have better success. In the cramped stairwell, it’d be best to send GIR ahead. Any more than three men trying to make their way down the stairwell, they’d just be stepping on each other and firing shots into the walls--or one another.

 

It was amazing how quickly the two of them were able to settle back into their roles, fighting side by side. For many years they had been at each other's throats, but as time went on they found themselves teaming up to thwart whatever danger or inconvenience came their way. In this moment, back to back with the human who swung his bat with precision and grace, he felt free. Even if he was not quite yet.

 

He had heard the shout, the crunch of the boy's glasses and had spun on his heel, ducking under Dib's arm and proceeded to bury no less than four rounds into the soldier that still held his gun high. GIR passed them, the smoke from the jets in his feet filling the hallway as he cut down the remaining two agents.

 

Zim took just a moment to glance at the human's condition. He would have a hell of a black eye, but would be no worse for wear from that particular hit. The Irken wrenched open the door and, drawing the same conclusion that Dib had, called out, “After you GIR.”

 

When the robot had shot up the stairs, not only working on clearing their way, but also providing them with a smoke screen for cover, Zim turned to the human and gestured toward the stairs, “Zim will cover you. Let us get the fuck out of here.”

 

Dib nodded to Zim as he spoke, heading first up the stairs and adjusting his glasses as he moved carefully. Best to take it slow, let GIR take on whoever might be making their way down. “Keep an eye out behind you,” he suggested, looking over his shoulder at Zim as they headed up, “There might be another stairwell on the other side of the hall that they could up and square us off in here.”

 

As he turned to face forward, the smoke clouding some of his own vision, he had barely enough time to react before one of the soldiers came into focus. “Watch your feet!” he shouted, just in time, as he cracked the bat into the man’s thigh and sending him careening down the stairs in a tumble, a round firing off into the wall by his feet.

 

Almost there. He stepped none-too-carefully over the man he had knocked out earlier, and was pleased to see the door still open at the top of the stairs where he had unlocked it.

 

Home stretch.

 

The thought gave him pause. Where _was_ home? He looked down at Zim, taking a moment to catch his breath as he mulled this over, as quickly as he could.

 

Fuck. It might be now or never. There were at least two soldiers, visible, waiting on the roof, guns poised. The soldiers couldn’t see them yet, not from this angle. Not on this landing, but they knew they were coming. _“Come out with your hands up. We_ **_will_ ** _use deadly force if you do not submit!”_

 

One-handedly, Dib fished into the jacket of his coat, fingers wrapping tightly around the velvet box. GIR flew out ahead onto the roof. He could hear the shouting and the firing. “I know this isn’t a good time,” he said, words rushed, as he dropped down to one knee. A shot fired into the stairwell, ricocheting off the walls before it lodged itself into the floor. Dib flinched. “I wanted to ask you this the day you left. I never got the chance. I love you. Marry me?” He asked, breathing ragged as he opened the box and held it out to Zim, balancing himself on the weight of the bat with the other hand.

 

The door at the bottom of the stairs banged open loudly. _“Get them! Don’t let them get away!”_

 

“It’s now or never,” Dib snapped, twisting around the rifle he had collected earlier and firing steady shots down the stairs, meeting their mark--but more soldiers were on their way.

 

Zim had followed quickly after the boy, taking the stairs two at a time and launching himself up several when the soldier collapsed at their feet. Even through the smoke Zim could _smell_ the air. _Fresh air_. They were so nearly there.  

 

He was not surprised by there being soldiers on the roof waiting for them. But he was certain that they would be able to take them. What he was surprised by was the human suddenly turning to him. Stopping their momentum.

 

For a moment he thought that something must be wrong, that Dib had spotted some danger he had not. Then the idiot dropped himself into a prone position with armed assailants coming at them from both directions. He pulled out a small box. Through the smoke Zim could see that there was something shiny inside, but the human started talking nonsense at him.

 

Zim turned on his heel, firing several shots down the stairs at the soldiers rushing them and yelled back at the boy, “Zim does not know what that even means, Stink! But fine, yes- just MOVE! We need to keep going or we are going to die!”

 

Dib groaned when Zim turned on him, but didn’t have time to be upset as he fired another couple shots down the stairs as new soldiers appeared to replace the ones that they had downed.

 

He stood, grabbing Zim’s free hand--one, to guide him out toward the roof, and two, to slide the ring onto the little finger of Zim’s left hand. He wasn’t surprised it was a little loose, now, but it would stay on. “It’s like--you know--how you’ve got mates on Irk? Or used to??” he shouted back, lifting the gun again to fire a shot over Zim’s shoulder. “It means I want you to be with me for the rest of my life, and it’s _important_ , especially _now_ because the rest of our lives _might damn well be over soon!_ ”

 

He knew he was getting emotional--tensions were running high for a _plethora_ of very good reasons.

 

A bullet made its way into Dib’s boot and the top of his foot, and he shrieked, stumbling backwards one-footed as he fired another few rounds down the stairs. “FUCK! Okay--shit--let’s go,” he cursed, turning and tugging Zim up the last few steps and out the door of the roof, dropping his rifle to pick the bat back up again.

 

Zim had to take a moment to replace the clip in his gun as Dib fired over him. He had just dropped the spent clip when the human grabbed his hand and slid the ring onto his claw. He did his best to absorb what the boy was saying over the sounds of shouting and gunfire; he got the gist of it.

 

He was startled when Dib leapt backward at the shot to his foot but responded by firing up the stairs to cover the human who continued to shoot down. The two soldiers at the top of the stairs had been taken out, one by himself and the other by GIR as he swept the roof clear. He continued to fire behind them as Dib dragged him up the remaining stairs.

 

He did not have time to appreciate the feeling of the wind on his face or the sight of the stars above them as they raced toward the Runner. The Irken extended his PAK legs, using them as moving makeshift shields, blocking a few rounds that came their way from the stairwell. As they ran he called to the human, “You want to have this conversation _now_ ? I mean, of course _yes_. But impeccable timing as always, Dib.”

 

“I’ve been wanting to do this for _six fucking years_ , Zim, of course I want to do this _now_ ,” the human shouted in response, limping as quickly toward the Takship as he could. He didn’t realize he’d made a slip in time, not right away at least, and when he did he began mentally cursing himself. He’d have to explain everything later.

 

It was dark on the roof, save for a few solar-powered lights illuminating the edges. He heard the helicopter above them before its spotlight located them and he swore. “We have to get the hell off this roof and cloaked,” he said, halting his stance as two more soldiers made their way onto the roof and toward him.

 

“Oh _COME ON_ ,” he whined, gripping his bat tightly and taking a few cautious steps backwards. “They are _not_ making this easy for us.” His back bumped up against the Takship and he felt a wave of relief course through him instantly. “Get in the ship!” he ordered, standing still and raising the bat above his head.

 

Zim did not recognize the slip of the timeline for what it was, thinking that Dib was speaking to their time spent as boyfriends in Hi Skool. Regardless,  he still thought that this was a ridiculous time to be conducting this conversation. He could barely even process what he had just agreed to amongst all the chaos.

 

When they had made it to the Runner Zim chanced just a moment to open the hatch. He had almost followed the boy's order, but slipped his arm around Dib's midsection, launching the both of the backwards into the Voot with his PAK legs, firing at the soldiers that had made their way to the roof from under Dib's arm.

 

Zim scrambled into the driver's seat, he did not even have to shout for the robot who came jetting into the tiny ship, screaming about tacos. The ship sealed shut around them and Zim brought the engines to life with a swipe of his claws on the control panel.

 

“Hold onto something!” he shouted as he sent them shooting off of the roof, weaving around human aircrafts and avoiding heavy fire. The Voot was faster than any of the helicopters could have ever even dreamed to be, designed to withstand the pressures of space and sustain combat while travelling at warp speeds. He sent them almost directly upward, the g-force pressing their bodies firmly against the seats until he leveled out some twenty miles above the surface of the planet and sent them speeding forward instead, not truly knowing where they were going.

 

It was a bit cramped with the three of them in the Voot, but it was not the most uncomfortable situation he had ever found himself. In fact, in light of what he had just escaped it was luxury. The Irken did a couple of frivolous loops, whooping with glee as the realization hit him that he was finally free of that nightmare. He set them to hover and turned to the human.

 

The full scope of what they had gone through finally caught up with him and he reached out toward the boy, gently moving the lapel of his trench coat, slipping the leather off of him to expose him arm and shoulder. “Dib was shot. We need to check these wounds before you bleed all over the upholstery.”

 

Dib yelped as he was dragged by Zim into the Voot and shoved into his seat, GIR almost hitting him in the head as the robot followed, screeching. Oh, he did _not_ miss the screeching. He clutched the sides of the seat, feeling nauseated at the sudden movement. Were there even seatbelts in the cruisers? He didn’t remember putting one on the last time he’d driven the Takship--that was so long ago now.

 

“Cloaking!” he shouted over the chaos--once Zim had them high enough in the air and heading in some kind of direction _away_ from the Foundation, he initiated the cloaking on the cruiser, and just started to settle back into his seat and start calming his breathing when he felt Zim’s hands on him, gentle.

 

He opened his eyes, looking down weakly and tiredly down at Zim. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, the pain shooting through his arm, shoulder, foot--and even his face--was _excruciating_. All of the exhaustion of the last six years, all of the stress of their two previous deaths caught up to him. It was too much all at once.

 

He tugged free from Zim, grabbing the purple bag and emptying it of its contents--almost tossing the first-aid kit at Zim, realizing that the Irken would need it--where he then proceeded to empty the contents of his stomach into it. It was mainly fluids--bile and painful dry-heaves that scratched his throat. His entire system had been flushed at the hospital, and he’d had no time to eat even if he’d thought about it.

 

Once he had finished vomiting, he shrugged a half-hearted and silent apology to Gaz as he opened the door of the Voot on his side just enough to get rid of the bag. Gaz would have supplies for them back at the house. He settled back into the seat with a loud, pained groan. He opened one eye to glance weakly over at Zim. He knew he’d need to start explaining. He looked like _absolute shit_ , he knew that. Everything from the last six years had stayed with him, except he hadn’t given himself any time to recover from his second overdose this time. The first time it happened, he’d spent three days in the hospital before they discharged him (not that he didn’t immediately go home to smoke weed and drink and take enough Oxy to sleep for another four days).

 

“I--it’s been a long six years, babe,” Dib muttered weakly, rolling his shoulders enough to let his jacket sag off his arms. He couldn’t lean down to undo his boots to see the damage done to his foot.

 

Zim helped Dib remove the trenchcoat after he was done vomiting into his sister's purse. He tossed the clothing into the back of the Voot where it covered the tiny robot who was still laughing wildly from their unruly flight. While the human obviously wanted to start _talking_ the Irken knew that first aid held priority over their emotions at the moment.

 

The shot to Dib's arm had worried him. But it was quickly evident that it had not hit any arteries. Another examination made it clear that it had been a clean shot, going all the way through his arm. Zim adjusted himself to sit on the human's lap before opening up the Irken medical kit.

 

“I know. We will have times to talk, Stink.” he said as he pulled out a cylindrical device, twisting it to heat the end to a glowing red. The Irken leveled the device with the human's wound and warned before cauterizing it, “This will not be pleasant.”

 

The other wound took slightly more attention. Zim had to dig the bullet out of Dib's shoulder before cauterizing that one, doing his best to ignore the boy’s grunts of pain. It was no use letting himself get sentimental, not until after he had taken care of the bleeding. Overall, he was satisfied with his work, even though he knew it was going to scar the human a bit.

 

Zim plucked the pain medicine out of the kit next and gave the human a double dose of it before wrapping his arms around the boy's neck and pressing his face to his chest. He took a deep breath before quietly saying, “I knew that you would come for me someday.”

 

Dib didn't have the energy to scream at the red-hot pain of Zim fishing for the bullet or the cauterization. Instead, he growled deeply, letting his head fall back into the seat and squeezing his eyes shut tightly. “Fuuuck,” he groaned, relaxing after Zim had given him the pain medication. While it didn't completely dissipate his pain--nothing worked like the Dilaudid did, although that shit had almost killed him twice now. He was thankful for whatever alien medication this was.

 

Slowly, Dib draped his arms around Zim and held him weakly to his chest. He nodded against the top of Zim's head, placing a gentle kiss there. “Of course. It took too long, Zim. I have so much to tell you.”

 

His voice was raspy and exhausted. Between them, they'd died four times. A total of four days of constant fighting and running. Six years forward and four years back and _finally_ they managed to get away. They were free. Officially.

 

He heard the sting of his tears hiss against Zim's skin before he realized he was crying. Trying to distract himself, he reached around Zim and input Gaz’s coordinates into the cruiser, letting it take them to her slowly under the cover of night and their cloaking. Once they gathered everything, they'd have to beeline off this planet. They couldn't risk anything.

 

Dib squeezed Zim a little tighter. His love, his mate, his fiancé, now, had been through so much. Nothing but horror. He'd saved Zim, now, sure. But he'd left Zim waiting, left him to escape on his own for six years. Lied to him, disagreed with him, and it was _Dib's fault_ that they had failed so horrendously. _He_ had put Zim through too much, even through those four days, even though Zim didn't remember it--Dib knew he would never forgive himself.

 

He made a promise to himself, in that moment: he would be back, and he'd rip the Foundation to the fucking ground.

 

Zim's own understanding of the turn of events that had come about to their freedom was different than that of his mate. He could recall flashes from his nightmare. Running through the woods away from the compound, attacking Dib in a blind rage, having his PAK removed. He could almost feel the ghost of a bullet in his shoulder. Attacking the professor.  Dib's eyes as he faded away. The sting of electricity.

 

But all of these things were like a fog. He could remember snippets of the dream, which had all but faded away, save for those most impactful moments. He would have thought it nothing more than a nightmare, had it not been for the scar on the professor's face and the words of the now dead man.

 

Zim pulled back to look at the human. Their time together thus far had been so chaotic that he had not truly had the chance to look at him. Claw marks that were nearly healed disrupted the pattern of stubble on his cheeks. His face was gaunt and had an unhealthy waxy sheen to it, though not as bad as he could recall from the flashes of imagery that still lingered in his mind.

 

The tone in his voice was a strange amalgam of both confusion and conviction, as if he knew what he was saying was true but could not fathom how it could be so, “I had the strangest dream. But I almost do not think it was a dream, Dib-thing. It is fading now but Zim had found you. I ran from that place. I had thrown my…. My tracker--”

 

Zim's eyes seemed to widen for just a moment in fear as he spoke, realizing that he still had a tracking device implanted in his neck. The last thing he wanted to do was to lead these agents right to them. He reached back and dug at the spot with his claws. The damage to his skin made it fairly easy to expose the device.

 

Pulling it out of his neck was not a wholly pleasant experience,  though opening the small airlock of the Voot and watching the little blinking light drop toward the Earth was incredibly satisfying.  The twenty miles or so it had to drop toward the surface, being blown about by the wind on the way down would be more than enough to throw them off the trail for a few moments.

 

The Irken grabbed the metallic cylinder which he had used to cauterize Dib's wounds and promptly stopped the bleeding on his own neck with little more than a hiss of pain. When it had cooled he dropped it back into the kit, noting that their craft had started to descend as it approached their destination as he looked to the human once again. His brow knit tightly as he brought his claws up to trace the ugly purple- yellow bruise on the boy's throat as well as the bite mark that was still visible. He commented in a quiet voice that held the same level of confusion, “Zim did this to Dib, yes?”

 

Dib sat in pained, angry, and sad silence as Zim worked through his own thoughts and memories. He didn't move when the Irken adjusted for the tracking device and cauterizing the wound. He was so, so tired.

 

When Zim pulled back to examine him, brushing his fingertips on a bruise he had forgotten was there, Dib looked away. He was having a hard time under the gaze of those eyes--their intensity had softened, sure, but all Dib wanted to do was curl into the fetal position on his bed and _sob._

 

“Yeah, you did,” he said, attempting a weak smile. He wasn't angry about the scratches or the bruise. He'd forgiven Zim for them almost instantly, and that hadn't changed. As for the bite mark-- _that_ he was more than a fan of. His fingers trailed up to brush against it, still hot and tender. “Things are… Complicated, Zim. I screwed up. I screwed up so much.”

 

Dib took a shaky breath, pulling Zim back into his chest. First for the hug, the contact, any sort of touch. Second, to avoid looking directly at him, instead gazing out into the night. GIR had gone silent.

 

“What do you remember from your dream? I can almost guarantee it was all real,” he laughed bitterly, “What a nightmare. A horrible, horrible nightmare. I fucked up, Zim. Over and over again. I can't believe it's anything but pure determination that I--I… Made it in time. I should've been there the first time. I should've been there. Done more. I lied to you.” His eyes began to sting again as they watered. _Fuck_ he hated crying. He'd rather break something, throw something, scream. His throat was too raw for that.

 

Zim did not protest being drawn back into the hug, he placed his cheek against the boy's chest. _What a nightmare_. That seemed to be putting it lightly.

 

He reached his hands out, wrapping them around Dib's arm lightly. Zim caught the glint of silver on his finger in the dim light cast by the control panel of their ship. A small symbol of Dib's dedication to him, a physical reminder that Dib had chosen him as his mate and that the human had come to his rescue. In that moment whatever had come before to bring them to that point seemed more or less meaningless to him.

 

Even if every gruesome image from his nightmare was true, what was important was that they were here now. In one piece, for the most part.

 

The Irken sighed heavily before he responded to the boy's question, “Zim remembers that Dib was sick. Had been poisoning himself. I remember that Dib put all that he had into trying to keep Zim safe. I remember that Dib died for me. I remember dying.”

 

Dib squeezed the Irken tighter to his chest as he spoke. They wouldn’t have long before they arrived at Gaz’s. Just a few minutes, more or less. “That’s all true. You died--I died. Twice. It--it happened twice,” he murmured, his breath hitching as he relived the memories, as the image of Zim fading flashed before his eyes followed by convulsing on the floor.

 

 _Poisoning himself_ . Honestly, that was a far _nicer_ way to put it than what he was actually doing, but he wasn’t sure how ready he was to go into detail _again_ , to talk about suicide _again_ , to recall all of the horrors _again_. Zim was safe, they were together, and they were getting the hell off Earth. That was all that mattered, now.

 

“I’ll tell you everything in time. I promise. I swore to you last time that I’d do better. I didn’t, but I will this time.” Dib opened his eyes to glance out the window. They’d lowered significantly, and were dropping down toward Gaz’s driveway. Gently, he untangled himself from his now-fiance, pulling back to look at him. “We’re safe. Gaz is going to get some things together for us, some supplies, so we can leave. We can rest once we’re out in space, yeah?” He asked, tugging his glasses off to rub his eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose. Damn headache. He needed _sleep_.

 

When Dib moved to end the hug Zim pulled himself off of the human's lap and back into the driver seat of the Voot. As they approached the human dwelling he switched to manual piloting, allowing himself to guide the ship into Gaz's garage, which he recognized vaguely from his dream even if the coordinates had not told him where he was supposed to go.

 

Zim was not entirely surprised by the sight of the scary girl sibling sitting in the garage, chain smoking and waiting for them. Her head snapped up at the sound of the ship landing, even if she couldn't see it through the cloak. Gaz jumped off of the cement stair she was sitting on and closed the garage door quickly, looking in their direction with anticipation.  

 

Before opening the shields of the Voot, Zim turned once again to the boy and assured him, “Zim forgives you. For all of the mistakes. We will both do better, I think. We have all the time in the universe for talking. And we will.”

 

As the shield opened he finished with a nod, “But I do believe it is far past the time to be done with this awful planet.”

 

Dib gave Zim a wary grin at his final words, stretching and cracking his back before he pushed the door open and stepped out--forgetting the shot to his left foot and staggering with a pained yelp, catching himself on the wall of the garage with his hands.

 

“Jesus Christ,” he murmured, managing to straighten himself up but still using the wall for support. “See? Told you I wouldn’t die,” he grumbled, trying his hand at humour before his expression became serious again. “We have to go quickly, though. What have you got for us?”

 

Gaz took in the sight of her brother clamoring out of the spaceship.  In all reality, she had expected him to be far more fucked up coming back, if he even did. As she had gathered supplies for them she had been trying to come to terms with the fact that it was possible that Dib would not be returning for any of the items.

 

She opened the door to let her brother into the house as the Irken followed in suit with a medical kit in tow. As the pair stepped past her she replied with an almost amused drawl, “Took you three fucking tries. But congrats on not being dead, boys.”

 

Gaz had all but forgotten what it was like to have the alien's robot around. But she was reminded quite vividly of it when the tiny android ran past her into her living room, screaming about piggies.

 

She followed after and addressed her brother who had been forced into a chair by the alien who was tugging off his boot to examine his foot, “I got food for you idiots. Mostly meal bars and protein drinks that will stay good for awhile for you. I also got a fuckton of candy for Zim. Bottled water. Soda. That purple suitcase has a bunch of clothes I was going to donate anyway. Got your sappy ass pictures and stopped at your apartment for some of your grungy tweaker threads and your bat. I thought you guys might want something hot to eat on the way so I grabbed some--”

 

“TACOOOOOOOS!!!!!” The response came from the robot who had, not only found the bag of food, but was proceeding to double fist the food into his mouth.

 

Dib hopped carefully into Gaz’s house, guided by Zim--and shoved none-too-pleasantly into the chair. He leaned back, extending his foot to Zim so that the Irken could remove the boot and take a closer look. He was _hoping_ it was just bruising and the bullet was caught in his boot, but the chances were almost higher that it had broken bones. He couldn’t tell what blood had been coming from which wounds--or which person.

 

“Sorry for getting--uh--blood all over your place,” Dib said awkwardly before he listened to Gaz prattle off the list of things she had collected for them. Damn. She was better organized than they were on _either_ run.

 

Overall, he’d become pretty adept at ignoring GIR’s screeching and running or flying around. The little robot didn’t _often_ get on his nerves, at least not back in high school. Some of those skills stuck around, and he honestly hadn’t even noticed the android until the _tacos_. Well. At least the brat was getting what he wanted. He couldn’t help but chuckle, although the shrieking didn’t help with his headache. “Thanks for doing that for us, Gaz. I really appreciate it. That’s a huge help--and should get us pretty far, all things considered.”

 

Finally, he turned his gaze back down to Zim, attending to his foot. “How does it look?”

 

Zim had been examining the human's foot and had expected far more damage. Thankfully, it seemed that the bullet had merely grazed the skin. He had no doubt that it hurt, but it would heal in due time. At the boys question he looked up, cocking a brow as he flashed him a smile, “It looks like you got shot in the fucking foot, Dib-stupid.”

 

He straightened himself up and ran a hand through the boy's hair, giving his scalp a brief scratch with his claws. The Irken turned to the human girl and gave a brief smile, “The Dib-sister has done well. Thank you.”

 

It was not often that Zim showed any kind of sincerity, certainly not to her. The thanks left Gaz speechless for just a moment before she replied, “Don't mention it.”

 

The Irken had moved to grab the purple suitcase, wanting to quickly switch into just about anything that was not a medical gown. He was stopped short, however, as the girl grabbed his hand and yanked it towards her. “Is that a goddamn rock?”

 

Dib rolled his eyes in an over-exaggerated motion at Zim’s comment, not rising from his seat as Zim moved. He’d be pretty useless carrying things while hobbling on one foot. He could work through the pain, sure, if they needed him to, but he just wanted to _sit the fuck down_ for a while.

 

He knew what was happening the moment Gaz snatched Zim’s hand, and he rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled awkwardly. “Uh--y-yeah. It is. I was--ah. I was going to ask him on graduation day, but, I never got the chance. I got a face full of hot coffee, instead,” he teased, looking down to examine the damage on his foot. It was red, starting to swell, and the impact of the bullet had already started to bruise a deep purplish. The bullet must still be lodged in the top of his boot.

 

That, he realized, is why you always buy expensive shoes. Zim had definitely always been right in that regard. He rolled his eyes, plucking his boot off the ground to examine it, shoving his hand inside to push the bullet out of the hole it created.

 

“So. We’re engaged now,” he added on as a bit of an afterthought, before he continued teasing, “I wonder where we’re gonna get married. What kind of wedding would you want? I assume your colour is going to be pink.” He knew Zim wouldn’t understand--or care--about any of this, but talking about something lighthearted seemed to help settle his blood pressure.

 

Zim had carefully plucked his hand out of the girl human's grasp after she had got her fill of looking at the little pink and purple stones embedded into the band. He was not nearly as phased by this announcement as either human seemed to be, but he chalked that up to this simply being a piece of their culture and not his.

 

The Irken bent down, opening up the suitcase and picking out a few pieces of clothing and a pair of slightly worn down boots as his mate spoke. When he straightened his back with the armful of fabric he gave the pair of them a shrug, “I only just found out that there was a concept of marry under an hour ago. Zim does not even know what this wedding nonsense is. But sure. Pink.”

 

He focused his attention on the girl and asked, “Bathroom?”

 

She pointed to a hallway which Zim quickly disappeared down to change before turning toward her brother, “Congrats. You have wrangled yourself a Grade A idiot. Match made in heaven.”

 

Dib watched Zim go with an amused expression on his face before he replaced his sock and tugged his boot back on. It’d be fine in a couple of days. He slowly pulled himself to stand, testing his weight on it. He still couldn’t do much, and wound up sitting himself back down in the chair again.

 

“At this point, Zim and I are a match made in _hell_ ,” he chuckled. They’d been through too much together by now to call it anything but. “Thank you for everything again, Gaz. Really. And--I’m sorry, too. For everything I said and did in the last--six? Two? Years.”

 

Dib had always been the most sentimental of the three of them, at least in the past. He’d always been able to _talk_ about things, to express himself--at least vocally. He wasn’t sure what happened, or when that changed, or really even _why_. He functioned for the first two years after Zim had gone. Maybe if he’d let himself, he would have moved on. Found himself again, or some version of himself at least.

 

He shivered at the thought. If none of this had happened, including the depths of his addiction, would Zim still have found him? Would things have been different, then? There was no way to tell. There was no way he’d be screwing around with time again if he could help it.

 

Gaz had sat herself down on a barstool that was pushed up against her tiny counter, procuring a bottle of wine from the rack beneath the island. She pulled the cork from the bottle with her teeth and spat it into the kitchen sink before drinking deeply directly from the bottle.

 

While she knew that the night had been far more strenuous for her brother - she had still dealt with more stress in what mentally felt like four days, but logically she knew to have only been twenty four hours, than she had for the entirety of her adult life. She set the bottle back on the counter and replied to the other human, “I'm sorry too. For everything I _didn't_ say or do.”

 

She rose from her seat to begin loading all the shit she bought into the Voot for the boys, seeing as they were both injured. But she paused briefly when she reached Dib's chair and in an act of uncharacteristic softness she ran her fingers through his hair, much like she used to when they were tiny and her brother would allow her to share his bed when the big house was empty and scary at night. It was not like their father was there. It had always been Dib.

 

Even when they didn't see eye to eye, he was always there. Right up until he fell apart. And she had not been there to support him when he needed it. She looked down at him and asked, “This is probably the last time I am ever going to see you, isn't it?”

 

Up until he’d found Zim, Gaz had been the only person he could talk to. Even when Zim showed up, and he was a kid with too much time and energy on his hands, determined to show the world he was worth something and expose Zim for what he really was--Gaz was there. Half-heartedly, sure, with little to no patience and definitely no ‘sisterly love’. She was always there. She listened, mosty, and even was the only person who believed him.

 

Dib couldn’t help but to lean into her hand and look back up to her. “Don’t be sorry. I think there’s enough ‘sorry’ between the three of us that if the world ran on it, we’d never run out of power. And--maybe. Maybe in person, I can’t say. I’m sure I’ll be able to video call you. Zim did that with his Tallests. They’ve got the technology,” he shrugged, stretched his foot out. Damn that was tender.

 

He continued, “I-- I do want to come back. I want to burn the SCP Foundation to the fucking ground.”

 

Gaz had nodded at the idea of video chats. The idea of hearing what trouble Dib and his rotten pistachio of a ‘mate’ got up to in the wide universe sounded good to her. She was sure that he would find a way to do it, too. Even if it was just every once in awhile, it would be good to know they were alive. She might even be able to see her big brother happy, even if it was at a distance of ten thousand light years away.

 

She had allowed her fingers to comb through his hair one more time, but at his second comment she gave him a sharp smack to the back of the head, “Don't be stupid Dib. That placed killed both of you. Twice. Just leave well enough alone.”

 

She stepped away from him, glaring down at him with narrowed eyes for a moment before grabbing the suitcase and heaving it into her arms. As she backed toward the garage door she said, “You got your alien, just go. I mean, you get to get the fuck out of here. Don't look back, you idiot.”

 

While the girl and her brother were talking, Zim was busy changing into the clothes he had plucked from the suitcase. He was able to hear the words that the two were saying, but he really paid them no mind. He knew that he did not have a ton of time to get ready. After all, the longer they were on this planet the more likely it was that something else would go horribly wrong.  But he took a moment after he had pulled the robe off of himself, dropping it to the ground to look at himself in the full length mirror on the back of the bathroom door.

 

His ribs were visible now. He could drag his finger along his abdomen and feel each of them. His hips jutted out far more than they used to. Zim had always been lithe, but years of malnourishment and maltreatment had taken a toll that made him sick to look at.

 

If that weren't enough, his skin which had been a brilliant emerald green was now battered and bruised, minty green scars littered his form and even worse were the marks of vivid pink where the damage was the worst. He turned away from the mirror, his breath hitching in his throat as he quickly pulled on the clothes to cover himself.

 

He had put on an oversized lilac purple sweater with tiny skulls stitched all over it along with simple black leggings and boots. He felt slightly more like himself now that he was not in the smock and now that he could not see the carnage that was his body. While the garments Gaz had given him were not _quite_ his chosen aesthetic, they were close - even if they were big on him and made him feel incredibly small and vulnerable.

 

The Irken turned once more to the mirror, straightening the seams of his leggings and smoothing the fabric of the sweater with the palm of his hand. It was then that he caught the glimmer of silver on his finger. He hadn't had a chance to really look at it before. He held it up to his eyes taking in the delicate silver band. Two tiny stones glimmered up at him from their recesses position in the metal, one pink and the other blue.

 

It was simplistic, but it was also perfect.

 

He didn't know the full depths of what it meant to a human to marry someone. But he knew what it meant to have a mate. At least, he could comprehend the concept. It had been generations since there had been mates on Irk. But there was knowledge of the old ways. The primitive, dark days before the control brains unified their people. Or suppressed them into thoughtless automatons, depending on the point of view he decided to take.

 

But, he was already a defect. He couldn't see any reason that he should not be taboo and hedonistic as well.

 

With one final deep breath Zim turned the knob of the bathroom door and marched out into the hall to join Dib. His mate.

 

As he got to the human's side he set one hand on Dib's shoulder and asked, “Are you all set then?”

 

Dib yelped as his sister smacked him upside the head, tilting himself forward and rubbing the spot as she moved away to bring bags into the garage to put in the ship. She was _right_ , of course, he knew that. It would be extremely dangerous and stupid to go back to the Foundation. “Yeah, I know. Jeez,” he murmured.

 

But he _did_ want to tear it down. That place had put him and Zim through far too much. His father had put them through too much. That, and he and Zim tended toward the stupid and dangerous, either against each other or together. It wouldn’t exactly be out of character.

 

He had a feeling that their failures--their _deaths--_ were ultimately his fault, anyway. Not the fact that they were incapable. Not the fact that they weren’t prepared enough or strong enough or brave enough, but because he couldn’t seem to keep anything straight. Not even himself.

 

He hadn’t done a line since before his overdose--technically. His fingers began worrying the fabric of the chair, along the seam of the arm. Well. His addiction wasn’t _completely_ gone--now that he was thinking about it, he wanted it, but he knew now that he didn’t _need_ it. He would be fine, and get over it, and maybe one day he’d actually be a recovering addict, rather than just an addict. Raising his opposite hand, he began chewing on his nails and cuticles, tugging and biting at the skin.

 

Dib tapped his foot anxiously on the floor as Gaz disappeared into the garage, staring vacantly at the floor and lost in thought. He didn’t hear Zim leave the bathroom and enter the room, or hear his footsteps. He jumped at the sudden pressure on his shoulder, looking up at Zim, he adjusted his cracked glasses and gave the Irken a tired smile. Seeing Zim in something other than the smock was _wonderful_. “You bet your ass I am.”

 

Zim gave a nod at the nearly exuberant response, leaning down to press a kiss to the boy's brow. He immediately recognized that there was a slight fever, the human's forehead was speckled with droplets of sweat that he knew instinctively were not all from the rush of what they had gone through. Now that he was able to focus on the boy, he could smell the lingering poisons in his blood and recognized that his mate was quite ill.

 

He had turned his body slightly, using the sleeve of his sweater to wipe the small bit of perspiration from Dib's face when Gaz reappeared in the doorway. She gave Zim a once over, nodding her approval at the outfit before heading into the kitchen, stepping over GIR, who was on his fifth taco, and grabbed a small pink handbag from the counter. Immediately she turned to the pair and warned, “Everything is packed. Clothes, food, a couple blankets and pillows. But… Dib, this is going to be embarrassing. And you are just going to have to deal with it.”

 

She held the bag out to the Irken who took it in his claws, his antennae tilted in confusion. Gaz folded her arms across her chest and began rather bluntly, “Dib overdosed on dilaudid and cocaine - like this morning. He left the hospital just before he came for you. He is sick. He is an addict. And you need to take care of him, Zim. He is going to be going through withdrawal.  I imagine it will start to hit him within a couple hours.”

 

She nodded toward the bag and continued, “There is a bottle of Clonidine and a bottle of Buprenorphine in that bag. It is medicine that will help him get through the withdrawal. It will still be awful. But it will help. There is a notepad with dosage information in it for the next two weeks. _Stick to that dosage._ No matter what he says. Do not listen to him if he says he needs more. Because that is a lie.

 

“And he might try to manipulate you into giving him more. You have to know that it is the addiction talking. Not Dib. Try not to hold the next two weeks against him.” Gaz sighed, bringing one of her hands up to move her bangs out of her face before adding, “He should get back to nearly normal after that. But I need you to be in charge of this. He will not stick to the program. But I know that if there is any person that will not give in to him being pathetic and guilt trippy, it is you. Don't fuck it up.”

 

Zim had opened the tiny purse and had pulled the prescription bottles out, looking at them curiously as Gaz spoke. When she had finished Zim gave her a nod, returned the bottles and shouldered the bag, not intending to let it leave his sight until this _withdrawal_ was over with. He looked up at the girl and replied, “Zim will make sure this is done correctly. No matter what the Dib-thing says. You have my word.”

 

Dib snorted audibly at Gaz’s instruction to regarding his addiction. He stood through the pain in his foot, wincing at it and feeling suddenly extremely irritated at the fact that he couldn’t walk or move properly. He was angry with his dead father, with the Foundation, and now with Gaz for suggesting that he’d be so weak he’d be unable to speak for himself regarding his recovery.

 

This wasn’t _embarrassing._ It was _insulting_ . He couldn’t imagine trying to manipulate Zim in that way. He might not always be as honest as he should be--he knew his setbacks, and he tended to get ashamed and then get sneaky. He _knew_ that was wrong, and he also knew that was part of the reason they’d continued to fail.

 

He always kept screwing up. After a moment of awkward and stressed silence, standing still and staring at Gaz and Zim with narrowed eyes, he shook his head, shook off his feelings of worthlessness and let the annoyance back in. Cover that shit up, Dib. Zim doesn’t need to see you depressed the moment you’re finally safe.

 

“I’m not a child, and I don’t need to be taken care of like one. It’s real cute how you’d assume I’d be so weak,” he snapped, grabbing the last bag left in the room and lifting it roughly. “Not sure how much I dig you two being in cahoots,” he grumbled, adjusting his glasses. They were still broken, of course, causing cracks in his vision _as if_ he were high. He wondered absently how risky it’d be to swing back to the apartment--

 

And immediately shook off the thought. No. He’d just be proving Gaz right, that he was weak and unable to get through this on his own.

 

“Thanks for all your help, Gaz,” Dib glanced over his shoulder, flooded with an odd sense of sadness that, despite her own cruelties, he wouldn’t be seeing her again any time soon. “I--I’m gonna miss you.” He felt like he was on an emotional roller coaster, but unable to accept the fact that Gaz may be right.

 

Zim's eyes widened a bit at the sudden outburst from the boy. It was not like anger was an uncommon emotion for either of them. But it seemed to come out of the blue. But he silently reminded himself of Gaz's warning, not to hold the next two weeks against Dib. Perhaps this was a part of the withdrawals. He had looked to Gaz who seemed, not only unshaken, but completely unsurprised.

 

She turned to look at Dib and snapped back, “I didn't say you were _weak,_ Dib. I said you were an addict - which you _are_ . And we are not in _cahoots_ . I gave your _fiancé_ the tools he needed to make sure you don't _die_ . I gave him the information he needs to _cope_ with your illness.”

 

Gaz uncrossed her arms, dropping them down to her sides as if physically deconstructing the walls she had put up. She let out a heavy sigh and added, “I do not want our last physical interaction to be a fight. If you take a moment and look at this logically, you will see that this was for your benefit. In a few weeks, you might even want to thank me.”

 

The girl stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her brother in a non-optional hug. It only lasted for just a few moments before she pulled away and finished in a soft, almost endearing voice, “You're an idiot... I will miss you.”

 

Turning to Zim she spoke in a far more commanding voice, “You keep him safe, you hear me? Be good to him.”

 

Zim had balked at her for just a moment, finding the lack of confidence almost insulting. It took only a second for him to recognize that he and Dib had both had a nearly identical reaction to her concerns. His featured softened considerably and he gave her a nod, extending a claw out to her, “Zim will do his very best, Dib-sist-- Gaz. I promise.”

 

Gaz had taken the Irken's hand, shaking it delicately. Her eyes widened a bit when the alien said her name. She could not actually recall a time when he had not referred to her as ‘Dib-sister,’ ‘Terrifying human-girl,’ or some other idiotic nickname. The ghost of a smile tugged at the edge of her mouth, not quite taking hold. She smirked as she let go of his claws and replied, “Thank you, Zim. It is almost a shame that I won't really get to know what it is like to have you as a brother. Congrats on your engagement. Now… get the fuck out of here you two.”

 

The Irken was not quite sure what she meant by him being her brother and a few of the words she had used did not have a ton of meaning to him, but that last sentence he understood and completely agreed with. Zim sidestepped into the kitchen and picked GIR up off the floor, much to the android's delight. He had gone through most of the bag of tacos, but Zim picked up what remained to keep GIR occupied for at least a little while.

 

Before disappearing through the garage door he gave one last nod of appreciation and said, “Goodbye, Gaz.”

 

Dib regretted his sharp words almost immediately, hugging Gaz back briefly before she stepped away to shake Zim’s hand. He gave her one final nod. “We’ll be in touch. I promise,” he said, before tugging the bag out with him to the garage where he loaded it into the Voot. It would definitely be a tight squeeze for the three of them. He hoped they wouldn’t be holed up in the cruiser for too long.

 

He cast one final glance into the house as he waited for Zim to join him. It was odd. He was really leaving Earth. The planet he once defended so ferociously, the people he’d once been so protective of--they ruined his life. They ruined Zim’s. He didn’t _regret_ the fact that they were leaving.

 

Honestly, he was excited. Get away from the stress and struggle of city life. Anything he did from this point on would be _his_ choice. Anything he learned would be because he wanted to. He wouldn’t have anyone telling him he was crazy, or weird, or psychotic. He didn’t have anyone to be disappointed in him anymore. Nobody that mattered, and he knew he could never disappoint Zim. Not if he played his cards right. He _was_ an addict. Rationally, he knew the next few weeks would be a nightmare for him and his now-fiancé, but he refused to vocalize it. Refused to even acknowledge it.

 

He had so many options at his fingertips now. He would get to explore the universe with Zim. Study space, study alien species-- _humanely_ \--and live out the rest of his days with the one person who was always there for him, even when they were fighting. They needed each other. That hasn’t changed; just the dynamic. He smiled to himself weakly as he stepped into the Takship and got himself as comfortable as possible.

 

“C’mon, Space Boy. We’ve got some travelling to do.”

 

Zim followed the boy to the Runner. His own feelings about leaving the planet were muddled. Earth was the first place he had been where he had been viewed as something more than a failure. He had made friends here. He had been able to be himself, for the most part. He knew now, without even a shred of doubt that the Irk he had become throughout Hi Skool, that was truly him. He was never really an invader.

 

If it had not been for his time on this dirt ball, he would have never found himself. He would have never found Dib. The last two years aside, his time on Earth had been the best years of his life. But it had never been home. Not truly. He had never really known a home.

 

But now, he was considered dead, written off by his species. He had no obligations to The Empire. He had no obligations to Earth. The only people that really mattered to him were being loaded into the little Voot and would come with him on whatever adventure was now laid at their feet.

 

As he approached the ship he used his PAK legs to lift he and GIR into the driver's seat. He turned and placed the little android in the back onto the pile of luggage before settling himself into the cockpit. At Dib's words the Irken flashed him a brief smile before engaging the Voot systems, closing their shields, cloaking them and powering the ship on as he replied, “After tonight you will be a space boy too.”

 

Gaz had opened the garage door for them and the moment that they could clear the opening, Zim launched them forward, changing their trajectory upward. GIR shrieked in delight as the ship barreled out of the atmosphere, the lights of Earth fading quickly behind them.

 

Once they were clear of the gravitational pull of the planet the ride became far more smooth, the ships artificial gravity regulating the pressure in the cabin. Before them was a sea of stars. The Irken did not have a direction in mind, but a memory seemed to surface in that moment and he input the coordinates for the Messier 81 system.

 

Relief flooded him, pressures he did not even know that he was holding onto, the uncertainty of their escape, seemed to fall away from him. They had made it.

 

He turned to look at the human who was looking, wide eyed at the whole of space and smiled softly, reaching one hand out to grab Dib's, squeezing the digits softly as he purred, “ _I love you, Dib_.”

 

At first, Dib felt a familiar wave of nausea hit him at the uneven journey through their atmosphere, but the further away from Earth they became, so more did Dib’s eyes widen in fascination and excitement.

 

There was a twinge of nervousness, too, at being already so far from home, of unexpected journeys, and the fear they would be captured at the last minute. The latter never came. Dib leaned forward in his seat, pressing his hands to the cool glass of the ship and staring out into the vastness of space.

 

As Zim took one gingerly, squeezing it, Dib turned to him, a grin breaking out across his face. “I love you, too, Zim.”

   



	4. Chapter 4

The last two weeks had been absolute Hell. Dib still wasn’t exactly sure where they were headed, but even now-- _mostly_ recovered--he didn’t quite have the energy to ask or figure it out. Either way, they were almost there. They’d been flying for the past few hours in absolute silence while Dib pretended to sleep. He was sure Zim knew he was still awake. Even GIR had remained silent.

 

Gaz had been unequivocally, unarguably right.

 

He had been manipulative and irritable, first off--he had been pretty damn horrible to Zim throughout most of their journey. Not only that, but he’d spent a good chunk of time shaking, sweating, shivering, and completely unable to sleep. He swore he could count the number of hours he’d slept this entire journey on both hands. He had an ever-growing migraine that still wasn’t completely settled. Thoughts of suicide were _incredibly_ common--they were in space, Dib was recovering, they were safe and together. This part Dib never understood, per se, but he’d been used to it. He’d felt that way most of his life. He hadn’t vocalized any of that to Zim.

 

Gaz had failed to mention, however, the _gross_ and _otherwise unflattering_ parts of recovery. That had all settled, now, but Dib refused to talk about it. So, did Zim, and they haven’t spoken a word about those moments.

 

Overall, he was feeling better. He needed some actual sleep _not_ in the seat of a cruiser this size. In a _bed_. He knew he would always be an addict. He’d come to that understanding a week ago after he spent an hour and a half trying to twist Zim’s own words and convince the Irken into giving him more of the medication. He knew he’d always be an alcoholic. He’d always be depressed.

 

But he was recovering. As he felt the cruiser’s speed begin to slow, he cracked one eye open to stare out the window. It was beautiful out here. He still hadn’t gotten over that state of awe he felt every time he really _looked_ at the vastness of space. No, he didn’t feel _small_ as many are wont to do. Never. He felt like he had so much to learn, so much to discover, and all of it right at his fingertips.

 

He opened both eyes now, blinking away the exhaustion, and glanced at Zim cautiously. Before the last--what, five hours? --of silence, they’d gotten into a _bit_ of a screaming fit, which made GIR shriek excitedly, and put them both on edge.

 

They were both pretty haunted by the disaster of the last few weeks. Dib said nothing, turning his head forward again and staring out the window, watching as Zim eased the Voot into landing. While Dib was fascinated, he was also unsurprised. He’d watched way too much sci-fi in his time, and already he found things were oddly similar in unexpected ways, but oddly unique in others.

 

Zim settled the Voot into the bay silently, and Dib stared wide-eyed out the window. Wherever they were, it was _busy_.

 

The Irken had been fairly confident through the first few days of their journey that Gaz had been overreacting about the _horrors_ of withdrawal. He had been certain that Dib's offense had been well warranted. Dib had been ill, of course.  He had a fever, spent most of his time wrapped firmly in the quilt that Gaz had packed for them. But he was optimistic, cooperative with his medication, curious and _talkative._

 

Day four, however. That was when Zim got his first experience of what true withdrawal was. Dib's entire demeanor had shifted. He became argumentative, manipulative and downright vile.

 

Zim had been able to remind himself of Gaz's words of wisdom through several days of this bullshit. However, he was not proud to admit that eventually he completely lost it at the boy. He had said some truly horrible things to the beast in those days. Horrible, even if they had been true. But the intensity had seemed to wane for the most part over the last few days, a few flare ups of heated emotions notwithstanding.

 

He had spent the last five hours glaring directly forward, refusing to look at or acknowledge his mate who was curled up the best that he could manage in the passenger seat. As they approached the planet Zim felt his anticipation growing, hoping that a change of scenery and not being trapped in this tiny bubble might change their outlook a bit.

 

He parked their ship with flawless precision and took just a moment to watch Dib, who had abandoned his pretenses of sleep and was taking in the alien planet with unabashed curiosity.  He wished for a moment that he had taken the time to make amends with Dib for their most recent spat before they got here. It would have been more pleasant to have all of the tense feelings out of the air. However, it could not now be helped.

 

The Irken cleared his throat, the first sound he had made in hours apart from irritated buzzing, before addressing the human, “This is Glort. Essentially it is a glorified shopping mall and resort for this quadrant of the galaxy. Zim is hoping to scrap Tak's Voot for some decent monies so we can get a ship that is actually livable and resupply. Hopefully get you some new ocular enhancers as well.

 

“You are likely to see many different races here. Try not to stare and do not point. Many beings find it incredibly insulting.” He spoke quietly but with purpose as he packed the essentials, he needed to carry with him in the little handbag given to him by Dib's sister.

 

Zim lifted the shield of the Voot, taking a deep breath of the fresh air that flooded the cockpit. Not only was it fresh air, but also the smell of a thousand delicacies from street vendors and restaurants. The Irken was so tired of prepackaged meal bars and Shasta. But before they could eat, he had to figure out monies.

 

Luckily, an authentic Irken Voot Runner, especially one in this good of condition - sanitation needs aside, should fetch an incredibly hefty price. He might not even have to wreck Skoodge's credit to accomplish setting them up with a decent start.

 

The Irken hopped out of the Voot, savoring the feel of solid ground beneath his boots. The amount of relief he felt to simply be out of that ship was extraordinary.  Luckily, he had not needed to deal with GIR singing his Doom Song for six months straight this time but arguing with Dib for a week and a half with the human no more than two feet from him at all times seemed to produce a similar, if not greater psychological strain.

 

He lifted his arms above his head, audibly groaning with the movement. He was wearing Dib's old shirt from Hi Skool, dark blue with an apathetic grey face on the front, now altered to accommodate his PAK, along with one of the many pairs of black leggings which had been packed for him and Gaz's worn-down combat boots. Overall, not the aesthetic of the myriad of vacation goers and shoppers around them, but it could not be helped. Plus, he actually really loved this shirt, even if he had been mad at his mate for days, it was still his mate's shirt.

 

He turned back to the others as both GIR and Dib climbed out of the ship and locked the craft for while they were away. As a sort of peace offering, he extended his claws to the human for him to take his hand and said, “Shall we?”

 

“Right, that makes sense,” Dib replied quietly, settling back into his seat after Zim spoke, “I guess most people don't like being stared at. I'll make sure to try not to be rude.” He had been almost startled when Zim coughed, casting a cautious sideways glance at him, but as his fiancé spoke, his nerves settled. “New glasses would be great.”

 

He _did_ regret how he acted during the journey. He was really the worst version of himself. The sickness was one thing, and it felt _horrible_ , but the absolute need he felt that made him say such vicious things--that was worse.

 

Dib slipped out of the cruiser as well, stretching joyously into the air. He could feel most of his body crack and crunch as he stretched, slightly surprised when all of his popping bones elicited strange glances from passers-by.

 

The human had to keep telling himself not to stare, walking around the Voot to join Zim on the other side. His own outfit was fairly out of character as well--while he'd changed into clean clothes, everything he owned was pretty dark. He had one of his classic tees, dark jeans, and his scuffed boots and jacket. He promptly tugged the thick garment off, hanging it over his forearm.

 

He took a quick glance around, not looking at any one thing in particular. It was _hot_ and reminded him a bit of tropical countries on Earth, but everything was so… different. It all seemed just a little unnatural and unusual to him. This was the first planet they'd stopped on, the only place he'd seen up close. He couldn't help the curiosity and wonder on his face as he tried to take it all in.

 

When Zim spoke to him, he turned and blinked at him. He found himself flushing, ashamed and honestly _embarrassed_ having Zim see those sides of him. He grasped the Irken's hand and nodded. “Yeah. Listen I--I'm sorry. For everything.” Dib had always been the first one to apologize, at least usually. Plus, an apology was more than warranted after all he'd put Zim through.

 

While he didn't feel his best yet, he certainly felt a lot more like himself. And all ‘himself’ wanted to do was dash into the crowd, talk to everyone he could, and eat every food he could get his hands on. He kept himself restrained, however, squeezing Zim's hand a little more tightly than necessary.

 

Zim thought that it was a very good sign when Dib willingly took his hand, giving the digits a squeeze. Even though they had been fighting for nearly a week and a half straight and the words had been rather vicious - still not the worst that they had gone through. They would get past it just fine. Not that he wanted to repeat that experience any time soon.

 

No, he needed a ship that they could at least go to separate quarters to calm down until Dib decided to apologize for whatever was going on. Because it was truly always Dib that apologized first.

 

Just like now. Zim returned the brief squeeze to the human's hand and craned his neck to look up at him. “Zim is sorry too. Come on. We have a lot to do.”

 

He tugged the human along after them, GIR running around at their feet, screaming and startling the vacationers around them as they moved through the crowd. Many glances were cast their way. Not only because of the shrieking robot, but because of the extraordinarily tall human, a race that was not often seen off of Earth, though Zim knew that a few of the race had managed to venture out into the universe. The majority of the glances, however, were at Zim himself.

 

Most of these beings had never seen an Irken in the flesh before. Irkens, which were established firmly as evil invaders, the boogeymen of the stars. He knew many of the stories that were told of Irkens, and how seeing one on your planet often meant that doom was not far behind. He walked with his head held high, not justifying the looks with so much as a reaction as they made their way through the docks towards a shipyard.

 

Zim lead them up to a ship master who was lounging, lazily flipping through a book, his feet propped up on a table.  The Irken could recognize him immediately as an Akritirian. A humanoid species, that did not look all that far off from humans themselves other than the nasocranial ridges which defined the race. The ringing began at the bridge of the nose, reaching high onto the forehead like a small mountain range.

 

He cleared his throat as they approached, and the being looked up from his book. His brows raised high at the sight of the two and he immediately dropped his feet from the table, straightening his posture and addressed them in a fair attempt of Irken, “How can I serve you?”

 

Zim had released the boy's hand as they approached and looked at the man curiously, his arms folded across his chest. He lifted one claw and gestured to the ship yard as he flashed the alien a smile, “I have a proposition for you. I have a military grade S-class Voot Runner which is no longer suiting my needs. Would you care to talk business?”

 

The exchange took longer than Zim liked. He was hungry and had to leave GIR with Dib while he examined the mainframes and cores of several potential ships. He wanted to make sure that what they ended up in was not going to break down on them. Luckily, they were only shown what seemed to be some of the best ships in the man's possession - likely because the Akritirian seemed rather intimidated by him.

 

He had fetched the Voot for the merchant to look over. He was never worried about this part of the exchange; truly the Runner was in immaculate condition. Even the repairs done by the human in his youth were superb. Soon the Voot had been taken off their hands and they were the proud owners of a YL-2200 light freighter with a Class 2 Hyperdrive.

 

Out of all of the ships that he had looked at, this was the one that was in the very best condition. The repairs and customization on the craft lead him to believe that the craft had been well loved. It had all of the amenities that they would need for comfortable living while traveling through space and even his remarkably tall mate would be able to stand, even stretch his arms over his head while inside.

 

He had examined the warp core, shielding and weapons systems with the very nervous merchant at his side. A conversation with the Akritirian left him with the knowledge that the vessel had belonged to a freighter and his wife who had made a living by running cargo shipments between planets for the last ten years. They had sold it off about a month ago, settling into retirement here on Glort.

 

Not only was the ship well maintained, the freighter couple had replaced all of the essentials before selling it off in order to get a fairer price. New beds and appliances. Though it did smell slightly of old people. What had sealed the deal for him was stepping onto the bridge, seeing the wide-open window of the cockpit, when he sat in the captain's chair, it had just felt right.

 

He traced a hand over the control panel, taking in the feel of the instruments as he brought the ship to life, the soft purr of the engine soothing and smooth. The Irken knew that this ship was meant to be theirs. With a flash of wickedly sharp teeth in an almost charming smile, Zim confirmed that they would take it.

 

Dib followed after Zim, finding that the Irken actually had to tug _him_ along for once. He didn’t know where they were headed, but he kept stopping--things just kept catching his eyes, and while he tried _very_ hard not to be rude, he couldn’t help but cast glances toward people they passed by.

 

He also noticed how others tended to stare at them--or, more specifically, Zim. Dib managed to catch a glimpse of a parent dragging their child harshly across the street. He didn’t understand what they said, but he could certainly extrapolate: ‘don’t stare’, or something along those lines at least. He couldn’t help but flash a grin and a wink at the kid as Zim continued to pull him forward, taking a few quick steps to catch up.

 

Dib opened his mouth to speak--but immediately realized his Irken was _not_ up to par, although he could understand the two of them adequately enough. He figured that the cruiser would be worth a decent chunk of change, and he had high faith in his own alterations, even done all those years ago.

 

The human shoved his hands in his pockets, allowing GIR to run around and between his legs, squeaking, before finally latching onto his ankle, seating himself on Dib’s boot. He chuckled down at the little robot, wandering around the shipyard while his fiancé made the necessary deal. He would be _extremely_ thankful for a ship that he could actually stand up in.

 

The ships themselves were _fascinating_ , but he could tell immediately that some of them would need a _lot_ of work. After a little while, boredom got the better of him. Dib shrugged to himself and made his way back over to reconvene with Zim and the ship master as they finalized the transaction. He wasn’t sure if the ship master would be able to understand English or not, but he asked his partner, “Are we good to go?” Absently, he adjusted his glasses to try and get a better look at the ship that the two of them exited but found he couldn’t really get a good look at it from here.

 

He definitely needed a new pair of glasses. He looked back down at Zim, hands still in his pockets. He wasn’t entirely sure what to _do_ with himself. He wanted to explore, take in everything that he could, and this was only their first planet. Just a pit stop. He was excited to see what else was in store for them.

 

Zim had finished off the transaction, paying forty-five thousand monies for the freighter - having talked him down from fifty due to some purely cosmetic damage. Unsurprisingly, the Akritirian did not seem to put up much of a fight when it came to haggling, likely ready to just see the back of the Irken as he was walking away. The additional monies from the sale of the Voot were placed on an unregistered digital chit card which Zim tucked safely into his little bag.

 

When all was said and done, he shook hands with the merchant and turned to Dib with a grin, “We are about good to go. We just need to empty the Voot into our _new ship._ ”

 

It did not take much to empty the craft, most of the supplies they had been given had been depleted as they travelled. Really, all that was left was removing their clothing and personal effects. Zim lead Dib to the freighter, having shouldered several of the smaller bags, leaving the larger suitcase for the human to carry. When they got to their ship, a medium sized vessel that was colored in blacks, greys and blues, the Irken pulled out what looked quite similar to the fob of a human vehicle, opening the main cargo loading ramp just beneath the cockpit to allow them on board.

 

Once onboard the Irken closed the ramp and flashed the human an excited grin. Even just this main hallway was bigger than the Voot they had been crammed into for weeks. He led them into the near center of the ship where several sleeping chambers meant for passengers were set up in a ring, GIR shrieked wildly and ran off into the bowels of the vessel doing his own exploration. While the robot was insane, Zim had trained him well enough on what could and could not be touched in ships to be comfortable with him going off on his own. Zim opened one of these by pressing his hand onto a panel on the wall beside the door which slid open at the touch. He deposited the bags he had been carrying and turned with a happy chitter.

 

He grabbed the suitcase the boy was holding and tossed it into the room unceremoniously before grabbing the human's hand and pulling him forward to show off the ship, “So this inner ring is bedrooms, a bathroom and kitchen, this right here is the gunner chamber. I will teach you how to use the cannon so that if we do ever get into a fight you can man this while I fly. It is not all that different from Irken guns, I do not imagine you will have trouble.

 

“And through here, this hallway leads to our cargo bays. There _were_ a total of eight. It looks like one was modified into a teleporter room and another looks like the last owner was intending on installing a holodeck, but never got around to it. It looks like it will be a great place to train and exercise. And right here is the cockpit,” he said as he led the boy into the final chamber, showing him the bridge. His antennae tilted to one side as he asked hopefully, “Do you like it, Stink?”

 

As soon as Dib saw the ship, he knew he was going to love it. Zim didn't have to explain to him what kind of ship this was, and he wasn't surprised that he didn't try, either. He listened carefully as Zim gave him the grand tour of their new ship. As if reading his fiancé's mind, as soon as his hands were free of the suitcase, he had himself a stretch. He could reach the ceiling, but it was _so_ much more comfortable than the damn Takship.

 

Dib followed Zim for the rest of the tour, listening intently. Gunner chamber? Cool. He was certain he'd have no issues there, either, but the assumption that Zim would be the one doing all of the piloting made Dib wrinkle his nose a little.

 

And a transporter? Potentially a holodeck? Dib's nerd brain _may_ be close to short circuiting. When Zim finally brought them into the cockpit and asked what he thought, he could hardly contain himself.

 

“Do I like it? Zim. _I love it_. This is--amazing. This is like all of my Star Wars fantasies coming true. If they never got around to starting that holodeck, then we definitely should when we have the chance,” Dib flashed Zim a wide and somewhat goofy smile as he made his way to the control panel, examining everything as closely as he could. “Even the colour scheme is perfect,” he added, turning back to Zim. “Really, I think it's just--perfect.”

 

Zim had returned the smile with an equally toothy grin of his own before making his way over to the human, reaching out to grasp his fingers gently. He craned his neck to look up at the boy and replied with a chuckle, “I am glad Dib likes it. This is home from this point. So, it would have sucked if you hated it.”

 

The Irken cast a glance to the side, smirking slightly as he added in a bit of a stage whisper, “Personally Zim thinks the color scheme is too dark but they were very much lacking in pink options.”

 

He chuckled again and looked back up toward his mate and added, “Personal touches will be added, I am sure. However, at the moment I am not all that worried about it. I think that now that we have the ship secured it is time to get you some new glasses. I doubt we will find anything as primitive as what you currently use, but you will be able to adjust. After that. Food. I am starving and if I have to eat another proteins bar, I am going to rip out my antennae.”

 

Dib grinned down at Zim when he took his hand, giving him a squeeze in return. He let Zim talk, glance to the camera, and continue, listening attentively. He didn’t reply right away, however, although he agreed that glasses and food were more important than exploring the ship and diving into adjustments. As much as he wanted to nerd out, he was starving and would _very much_ like to see.

 

With his other hand, Dib reached up and slid his fingers along the back of Zim’s head and neck. Leaning down and tugging the other forward gently, he kissed the Irken deeply. It’d been a very, very difficult two weeks. They’d hardly spoken to each other, and when they did, often it resulted in a lot of yelling or Dib huddled in the copilot seat shivering and sweating out the drugs. He wanted a _damn kiss_.

 

Satisfied, Dib pulled away slowly and offered Zim a sweeter smile. “That sounds like a great idea, babe. Let’s go get me some glasses and some damn food. I’m pretty sick of those fucking protein bars, too.”

 

After the first few days of their travels, when tensions rose, and the arguments started the small exchanges of physical affection like hand holding and kisses had also decreased drastically. Not entirely. In the moments where Dib seemed almost himself and was fumbling over apologies they still happened. But not like the kiss he was pulled into now.

 

There was a silent apology behind the action, but there was no trepidation or emotional walls that separated them. He could feel the passion and vitality that he had known was still somewhere within his mate. Zim returned the kiss with just as much enthusiasm, making sure to let the human be the one to pull away first.

 

When Dib had straightened himself once again, Zim was left flushed and a little breathless but he simply flashed the boy a smile and said, “Come on. Let's go explore.”

 

He had ordered GIR to stay with the ship, promising him that they would have snacks when they returned and lead his mate back out via the cargo lift. Once outside of the ship and back into the throng of people milling about to their destinations Zim lead them until he had managed to find a large holographic directory. The thing had no less than a dozen languages programmed into it, but he was not surprised to find neither Irken or English on it. Instead he selected Vortian, while he was a little rusty, he had lived on Vort for over a decade and was able to reacquaint himself easy enough.

 

After a few less than successful searches he was able to locate a shop that looked promising. The advertisement that popped up showed a young and hip alien adjusting a high-tech visor across their eyes, the blue of their skin a vibrant contrast to the muted orange background. They appeared to be having a sale as well.

 

When he selected the shop, a bright white disk appeared on the ground near their feet. Zim stepped onto it, pulling Dib along with him. He pushed a button and the disk seemed to elongate, forming a bit of a bubble around them as they were lifted high into the air. Once up this high it was easy to see the extensive traffic of similar bubbles crossing every which way as they carried people towards their own destinations on this automated super highway.

 

Again, Dib followed wherever Zim lead him, trailing only slightly behind. He could just walk faster naturally with how tall he was, and he wanted to take the chance to observe every little thing that he could on their way. Holding Zim’s hand, he knew he wouldn’t get lost in a crowd and every once in a while, allowed himself to stall, too distracted to see the endeared smirk or roll of Zim’s eyes every time he had to be tugged back along.

 

The further they went from the shipyard, the more it felt like a tourist trap. There were far too many people, and once the excitement wore off, he instead walked alongside his fiancé until they reached the directory.

 

While he didn’t understand any of the language, he’d seen Vortian a couple times and could at least recognize it. He was fascinated with the advertisements that popped up, eyeing them interestedly until Zim selected one.

 

The emotions that followed were many and fast, and a little overwhelming. He was confused, and then startled, and then _extremely_ excited as the disk at their feet opened up and encircled them, carrying them through the air towards their destination. Without thinking, he grabbed Zim’s sleeve and stared at the Irken wide-eyed, opening and closing his mouth as he tried to speak, but unable to find the words.

 

Changing his mind, he reached out to touch the bubble with his other hand, pressing into the slightly pliable, but firm, material before looking out over the planet.

 

Once they had lifted into the air Zim took up an idle lean against the side of the tiny transport, content to watch the rapidly shifting emotions of the human beside him. He grinned while Dib worked through how to process what was happening around them. Zim was not incredibly impressed by it, the device was no more than an elaborate version of the moving walkways in human airports, but the look of wonder on his mate's face was far more interesting to him.

 

After just a few moments of watching Dib take in the sights on the planet from on high, Zim stepped forward placing his hand on the small of the boy's back, looking out over the edge of the bubble with him.

 

Truly, this was a bit of a trash planet. It reminded Zim of Las Vegas. People came here for one purpose alone, and that was to spend their monies. Not that they were doing anything different. By the time they left they would have done their part to stimulate the economy. But regardless of that knowledge, the Irken had to admit that it was _pretty_. Extravagant shops, hotels and casinos stretched as far as the eye could see, crafted out of brilliant white alabaster-like stone, spires reaching high into the air.

 

It was a planet that someone could make it big, or they could lose everything. Zim intended for them to get what they needed and to bid this planet adieu. The last thing he needed was for his mate to realize how well this planet could stimulate and replace his addictions with far more nefarious ones.

 

When they neared their shop the disk beneath their feet flashed blue as a warning and with his other hand Zim pushed the human away from the edge gently as the bubble disintegrated and set them down once again on solid ground. With a quick glance around he was able to spot the shop, a large digital billboard on the wall of the building showing the same blue alien from the ad.

 

Taking Dib's hand once again, he led him toward the shop and addressed him happily, “We have enough for you to splurge a bit on this. So, make sure to pick out something you like, Dib-thing.”

 

“Awesome,” Dib replied, following after Zim into the shop. This place clearly had one purpose, and that was glasses. It looked like any regular glasses store on Earth, but the styles were vastly different. Tons of goggles and visor-style frames, way more futuristic than Dib would want for day-to-day use, but he was still fascinated enough to make his way along the walls, taking in all of the different styles. It reminded him of everything he’d seen in science fiction, some leaning toward cyberpunk. He was nervous to touch any of them, but many looked like they’d have a variety of functions.

 

Dib didn’t notice the alien behind the counter, humanoid with blue skin and a slight patterning of dark blue and light green. He didn’t notice them stand and make their way around the counter, casting a soft smile between the two of them.

 

They startled Dib as they spoke, especially as they vocalized in English, causing him to turn sharply, casting a glance between Zim and them. Zim looked completely unsurprised.

 

“I think I know exactly what you are looking for,” they said, offering a knowing wink, slipping past Dib to press a button next to one of the racks. It shifted, rotating to reveal a new set of specs. She plucked one delicately off the wall, holding them out for Dib to take.

 

“Woah,” he muttered as he took them from the alien, turning the frames around in his hands a few times. They _were_ exactly what he was looking for. Circular frames and thin arms, black, and blue wiring encircling them. While Dib examined them and put the glasses on, they had tugged a panel out of the wall, revealing a mirror for Dib to see himself in them. He swapped out his cracked glasses for the new ones, although they didn’t correct his vision--

 

“There are two buttons on the right arm and one on the left,” they said, leaning against the side of the mirror and placing a hand on their hip. “The left cycles through menu, the right buttons cycle through mode. You can adjust that way. It’ll scan your eyes and correct your vision.”

 

Dib blinked at them, wide eyed, before he fiddled around with the buttons on the frame, the interface appearing on the inside of the lenses. It took a few moments to figure them out, but once he did, they flashed twice, and the lenses adjusted, and suddenly the world was clear.

 

 _When_ was the last time he’d actually gotten his eyes checked? “ _Woah_ ,” he muttered again, turning to Zim. “What do you think?”

 

Zim had been completely unsurprised when the alien, a Delvian, spoke in fluent English to his mate. He knew enough about the race to know that they were incredibly psychic, and the being likely pulled the language directly out of the human's head.

 

The Irken had always been a little uneasy around beings that possessed these kinds of mental abilities, feeling that they were often unintentionally intrusive. But the fact that this one had decided to use their skills for retail seemed rather smart to him. Being able to deduce at a single glance the exact thing that your client would want and present it within moments of them walking into your shop. It almost guaranteed a sale and would make your transactions incredibly quick.

 

Zim had barely had a chance to start browsing the shelves himself when the Delvian approached and did just that to his mate. Zim turned to look and smiled up at the human. They were pretty perfect for him. Quite similar to his old glasses, but with a notable tech upgrade. He was unsure that either of them could have picked out a better pair.

 

As the thought crossed his mind, he noticed the extremely pleased smile that the shopkeeper flashed them, which he returned with a soft roll of his eyes before turning to his mate. “They look fantastic, Dib-thing. I was thinking that while we are here, we should look into--”

 

He trailed of slightly as the shopkeeper turned and began gathering some other eyewear. The Irken let out a soft sigh, folding his arms over his chest and finished, “Well I guess you will see as soon as they get back.”

 

And indeed, when the alien returned, they had a small tray with several other products on them. A few visors with built in computer interfaces and some engineering diagnostic goggles, unsurprisingly in shades of backs, blues, purples and pinks, respectively.

 

The Irken's slightly off-putting demeanor seemed to do absolutely nothing to shake the Delvian's upbeat and slightly smug disposition. They continued to beam at the pair knowing, with absolute certainty that it was exactly what Zim had been looking for. Zim lifted the vibrantly pink visor to his face, it was large enough that it actually did cover the entirety of his overly large eyes - something that was rare unless it was Irken made. He lowered them and set them back on the tray, having been unable to find a single thing that he would have wanted changed about their design. Glancing back at the androgynous alien he sighed, “They are perfect. But you knew that. What is the damage?”

 

Turns out, not that much. The only pair they had to pay full price for was Dib's glasses. The rest of them were two for one. Soon they had been wrapped up and placed into a bag for them, other than the pair of corrective lenses Dib now wore, with a swipe of his chit they were paid for. Zim had reached out to grab Dib's hand to lead him out of the shop and away from the psychic alien but stopped in his tracks as they cleared their throat behind them.

 

He turned to look at them as they said, “You are both good people. Things will get better. I promise. Best of luck, Dib and Zim.”

 

Dib watched the interaction occur between the alien and his mate, both confused and interested. They didn’t speak to him more at this point, undoubtedly focused on making their sale, but he did listen. They seemed to know everything that he and Zim were thinking and feeling, and while he wasn’t surprised, or put off necessarily, he didn’t exactly know how to feel about it.

 

Things were far, far weirder than any of his books or movies or television shows could have prepared him for. Once the transaction was complete, Dib muttered a soft thank you to the alien on their way out, bowing his head gently in a bit of a nod as Zim lead him out of the shop--glancing over his shoulder and stopping the both of them at their words.

 

His brow furrowed, and he looked at them for a long moment before speaking, not entirely sure what to say. He almost wanted to stick around--as about their life, their race, why they were here on this planet working a glasses shop, especially considering their skills--but knew they didn’t have time. He and Zim were both hungry, and Zim seemed to want off this planet as fast as possible.

 

The alien’s words, however, had caused Dib pause. “I hope you’re right,” was all he managed to offer before turning and joining Zim outside, still somewhat troubled by this bizarre interaction with the shop owner. He adjusted his glasses, a common tic when he was thinking, and turned to Zim.

 

“That was… strange,” he muttered, lacking a better word for it. Life seemed to continue at its normal pace outside the shop. It’d been deathly quiet in there, and the dichotomy seemed slightly off. “Uh. Where to next?”

 

Once back outside Zim glanced around looking for another directory and responded to his mate, “Strange, yes. But exactly what was expected. That was a Delvian. The entire race is extremely psychic.  Zim has never been particularly fond of interactions with psychics. But at least it made quick work of shopping. Now we just need to find somewhere to--”

 

He trailed off once again as the shop owner stepped out into the sun right alongside them and extended a small slip of paper to the Irken. They flashed a wide smile and said in an almost sing-song voice, “Somewhere to eat? I think you two will enjoy this place.”

 

They looked up at the human, who was only slightly taller than themselves and answered his unspoken question, “My name is Tihaam. You can call me Ti, Dib Membrane. Enjoy your stay on Glort.”

 

As the being turned and walked back into the shop Zim eyed the paper, the restaurant was not far away. Turning it over was also a list of various shops which, he was sure, would be perfect to restock supplies and equip themselves for space travel. He looked up at Dib and sighed, lifting the paper, “Well. Should we check it out?”

 

Dib jumped when Tihaam, or Ti, stepped out beside them. He was again left speechless when they returned inside. Shaking his head, he turned back to Zim. “I suppose we should,” he said with an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

It only took them a few minutes to arrive at the restaurant that Ti suggested. During the walk, Dib was quiet, wondering what other interesting races and people they’d come across in the next leg of their journey, after they left Glort. He still wasn’t sure what they wanted to do or where they were going overall, but he was suddenly very excited about the prospect. He almost wanted to run back, see if they would join, but had a strange feeling that this wouldn’t be the last they see of Ti.

 

Otherwise, why even bother giving their name? It all felt like something out of some of his favourite shows--introduce a character, make them interesting, and have them come back far later when they’re needed the most. He couldn’t help but chuckle.

 

Dib squeezed Zim’s hand and looked up at the building and in through the windows. It wasn’t super busy--although he had no idea what the local time was, they must have just missed the lunch rush of hungry vacationers. Now that they were actually faced with the prospect of food, he realized how excited he was for it. They’d been eating the same thing for two weeks straight. “Shall we?”

 

Zim, in great contrast to his mate was glad to finally be rid of the strange psychic alien and sincerely hoped that they would never come across them again. He did not like the way he felt so exposed and easily read around the being, though he was sure that their food recommendation was likely to be, just like the glasses, perfect.

 

When they got to the restaurant, Zim gave Dib a nod and opened up the door for the human to let him inside. The entire place was dimly lit, set up for ambiance. The tables all seemed to be secluded from one another to give each guest a rather intimate dining experience away from the distraction of others. Only a few of the small tables were occupied, the inhabitants speaking at little more than whispers, the delicate clinking of silverware barely audible above the soft music that played overhead.

 

The Maître d’ approached them, an older alien with nearly purple skin and elongated, pointy ears. He flashed the pair a smile and lead them to a table near the back of the restaurant, near some double doors through which an elaborate garden full of tropical plants was visible. The entire place seemed _fancy_ and suddenly Zim felt mildly underdressed, but he was too hungry to care much about it.

 

Once seated they were handed tablets which displayed the menu on an interactive screen. Zim began immediately flipping through it, looking for the deserts and the alien asked in fluent Irken, “Can I interest you in drinks?”

 

Dib took a minute to examine the menu, startled at first as his glasses translated the words in front of him into English. Some words he still didn't understand, or there were no translations for English, but it gave him more than enough of an idea what he was looking at to feel confident enough to order.

 

As the Maître d’ spoke, Dib offered him a glance before looking for the drinks. Honestly, he could really use a cup of-- _oh hell yes_ \--” Coffee, please,” he said in his best Irken. He'd almost considered asking Zim about alcoholic drinks, but he figured he should at least try to be on his best behaviour. Jumping right to alcohol would definitely be a bad move.

 

He looked across the table at Zim, certain there would not only be enough sweets on the menu, but that the Irken could find something he would want to drink, as well.

 

As he waited for Zim to give his drink order, he looked back at the menu to assess the food options. Stay safe, or experiment? He knew the answer almost immediately.

 

At the question from the Maître d’ Zim had looked up from the menu and with the flash of a smile ordered, “The sweetest fruit juice you have.”

 

He did not really care what it was. He just needed the sugar in a hardcore way. He had been living off of human supplements for two weeks and before that he had been surviving off a fluid drip of electrolytes and feeding tube for two and a half years. The Maître d’ had walked away to get their drinks and Zim finally found the deserts. There were several great choices, but he ended up selecting what looked like a sponge cake with no less than a half dozen types of candied fruits on it. Only after he had selected the item did he set the menu down and look towards his mate who sat in the opposite chair.

 

Dib had a look that was quite reminiscent of a child in a shop full of toys and a pocket full of money. It was adorable. “Does anything look promising, Dib-thing?”

 

Dib was struggling between two options. Both quite savoury, heavy meals--something he'd been missing not just during their two-week trip, but also the past six years. He hadn't been treating himself very well.

 

“Yeah,” he said, pointing to the two items so Zim could see, unsure of which he'd want. One was, basically, filet mignon, the other reminded him of chicken cordon bleu. He doubted they were either beef or chicken, at least as he knew it. “These two. What do you think?” he asked, hoping Zim would at least have an idea. He was definitely leaning toward what looked like steak, potatoes, and greens. He was lacking in nutrients.

 

Thinking on it, he also couldn't wait to start _cooking_ again--back in high school, he'd often made a variety of authentic Mexican dishes for himself, with desserts for the two of them to share.

 

Zim looked over the menu at the options presented, unsurprised that they were both _meats_. He had never been able to wrap his head around omnivores. But he knew that it was something he would definitely have to deal with, being mated to a human. He had tried a couple of meats while living on Earth and had studied the diets of many races during his time at the academy. But was quite satisfied with his own diet of plants and sweets.

 

He pointed to the steak and commented, “This is rothé. A kind of… buffalo-sheep-cow thing that lives underground. And this,” he gestured to the poultry, “is kind of like… a Turkey. I guess. They spit venom though. Much cooler than a turkey. I couldn't tell you what they taste like. But these mashed things. Those are similar to a turnips. We used to get them imported on Irk. They are not terrible.”

 

He shrugged and looked back up at the human, “The rothé would probably have more proteins in it than the bird-thing though.”

 

As he settled back in his chair another server walked up to their table and deposited fancy cups in front of them, along with carafes of their drinks. The Irken mumbled a thanks before reaching over to pour some of the foul-smelling coffee into Dib's cup. Truly, the trash that humans were willing to consume was baffling.

 

Once he had his own drink in hand, he got comfortable in his chair, folding his legs under him. He sipped the drink happily and once again looked at the little slip of paper that _‘Ti’_ had handed him musing as he read, “I think that Ti may have known my plan a little better than even I did. I don't think they missed any of the stops that we will need. It is a little unnerving, to be honest. However, this should make the shopping a little easier than I had anticipated. Zim expected to spend several days here. But I believe that we should be able to be on our way by tomorrow seeing as I am likely not going to have to research much.”

 

Dib listened to Zim's explanations of the dishes thoughtfully. While the turkey thing definitely looked good, a little more comfort-food, he definitely could use the protein and definitely needed some vitamins from the vegetables. He selected the rothé dish, setting the menu aside.

 

He watched Zim pour his coffee for him, picking up the mug as soon as Zim had finished pouring, and not a second later. He always drank his coffee scalding. It was a talent, and normally done out of desperation to get _as much_ caffeine into his body as fast as possible. It was one habit he hadn't managed to break. The instant relief he felt from his first large sip was wonderful.

 

Sighing happily, he settled into his seat with the mug and looked across at his fiancé. “I find them so fascinating,” he said absently before continuing, “It's good that we don't have to spend a great deal of time here, though. It'll be good to get everything we need and head off, especially if there's more on that list than you thought about. As much as I find this place interesting, there are way too many people. I'm not sure if a vacation planet is where I want to spend a great deal of time.”

 

Dib flashed Zim a grin. “Besides. I'm excited to get back to the ship and check it out properly, look into upgrades, and explore space in that thing. Flying at lightspeed through the stars,” he waved an arm exaggeratedly, making himself laugh before becoming embarrassed at a glance cast in his direction.

 

The human coughed and settled back into his seat. He was feeling more like himself by the second.

 

Zim laughed happily along with his mate, not paying much mind to the other diners who had looked their way. He could not agree more though. He loved space travel. And their new ship had so much promise. Now that they could do so comfortably, that is where he wanted to be. If he had his way, they would only stop when they absolutely needed to. Adventure came when you were on the move and he was ready for adventure.

 

Plus, while this was a resort, he found the whole vibe of this planet stressful. He was beyond ready to be shot of the entire planet once they had all their affairs in order.

 

The Irken leaned forward, setting his drink down before folding his arms on the tabletop. “That sounds wonderful, Stink. Zim does not really have a plan for where we are heading next. But figuring that out will be half of the fun.”

 

He was not surprised when their food was delivered promptly to their table. They were simple orders and there were very few customers to be cooking for. It was with almost unceremonious vigor that the Irken started attacking the dessert with his spoon, having not tasted anything this good in years.  

 

Dib nodded in agreement. “It will, I think the adventure of it is the whole point of the thing. While I don't want to settle down any time soon, I'm damn glad to be rid of the fuckin’ cruiser,” he chuckled, glancing up as the waiter brought over their dishes.

 

He could've started drooling if he had less restraint. The _smell_ of _real food_ and cooked meat was delectable. He let Zim dig in first, one eyebrow raised at his unusual demeanor, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, but found once he collected his cutlery and tasted his own, Zim's vigor was evenly matched.

 

Half way through, he finally leaned back to take a breath and a sip of his coffee. “Good God was this needed,” he said, tugging a strange looking, leafy green vegetable off his fork with his teeth. It reminded him a bit of a strange love child of fiddleheads and broccoli.

 

It wasn't until Dib spoke that Zim even looked up from his food, realizing suddenly how uncharming that display likely was. He straightened his back and similarly picked up his drink nodding in agreement before taking a sip. Even though he took far more time and care with eating from that point, it was not long until he was full, and his plate was almost completely clear.

 

The Irken pushed the plate away from himself gesturing towards it with a claw as he reclined back into his chair, nursing the drink in his hand and looking out the window at the garden, noting no less than thirty colorful fluttering bugs that passed from plant to plant, “You can have the rest, Stink. If you want to try it. Zim is done. But perhaps we should order a second one to take back for GIR. I think he would like it.”

 

Dib noticed Zim’s change in demeanor, and while he smiled, he didn’t say anything or bring attention to the fact. He’d been eating like a bit of an animal himself--not that he ever really minded. Zim had called him a ‘garbage disposal’ on many occasions. The human didn’t _quite_ see it that way, he just liked to try new things, experiment, and especially when he was younger, often over-exerted his energy and had to regain it somehow. He’d always have trouble sleeping, so calories were important. Leftovers were always doomed.

 

He nodded in response to Zim’s offer, tugging the plate over to his side. He licked the sauce from his meat off his fork before digging into the last of Zim’s cake. “This is pretty good,” he said, unsurprised that Zim would order something this rich and sweet--candied fruit, sweet caramel, cushiony sponge. It was tasty, that’s for sure. “I agree. Definitely order one for GIR. He’d love it,” he said, using his pinky finger to unceremoniously lift some caramel and whipped cream from the plate, licking it off the digit with a grin.

 

“Where are we off to next, by the way? What all is on that list that we need to get? I mean, groceries, for one. I’d really rather not be eating exclusively shit protein bars while we’re on the ship. I’m so sick of them. What else? Any other supplies?”

 

As Dib spoke, Zim glanced back at him, turning away from the plants and insects that had sparked his interest. He looked at the list once again before answering his mate, “Well, food supplies are needed. Our ship can adequately hold a two-month supply, though we will have to look into stuff that will keep long term. There is, however a garden wall in the kitchen that we can grow some fresh vegetables and things. Hopefully. If I do not kill them. I tried growing tomatoes in Skool. But it did not work out all that well. We can hope that this will go over better.”

 

The Irken scratched his chin thoughtfully before continuing, “Weapons for both you and I. Computer equipment. Stocking first aid kits. Some general amenities, seeing as, while I am super _grateful_ for the relatively good-to-go nature of our ship, I want some new blankets and pillows, things of that nature. Most of that can be found just at an emporium. Should not be a huge deal.

 

“Most places when you are placing large orders of stock for a ship will also be able to deliver it, so I do not think we will have to carry two months’ worth of rations back to the shipyard,” he added with a grin before lifting the paper, giving a slightly abashed chuckle and finishing, “and then…heh. Clothes.”

 

Dib looked up from his two plates when Zim chuckled and flashed his fiancé a grin. “Did Ti put all of that on there? I’m sure we’d forget something if they hadn’t,” he shrugged, pushing the bare plates away a little and finishing off his coffee. Sweet, sweet caffeine.

 

“In any case, that’s good we can get all those things delivered to us. It’d take forever to get all that shit to the ship ourselves. Although I suppose it makes perfect sense. I honestly hadn’t thought about it.” Dib had hardly thought about anything besides drugs and alcohol while they were on their journey. If he’d been properly sober, he’d probably have asked Zim a million and one questions about what the planet would have in store for them and what it would be like and what kind of people they would see.

 

Despite that, now Dib could experience it and really, truthfully appreciate it. They could make anything of themselves out here. Do anything they wanted, be whatever they wanted. The human could experience a plethora of new cultures and find a plethora of new areas of research and whatever work he wanted to do. He couldn’t help the widening of his grin as he thought about it.

 

He recalled Zim mentioning space pirates. Now _that_ would be fun. “Are we about set to go? You gonna order one of those for GIR?”

 

Zim nodded, pressing on the menu to select several more of the cakes, when they showed up, he promptly requested a to-go package. Soon the two of them were out of the restaurant, on their way to their next destination.  Even though they did not need to carry any of the additional things that they bought it still took them the majority of the remainder of the day to secure the rest of their items. By the time that they were actually heading back to the ship, the Irken was exhausted both physically and mentally.  

 

The number of people they were around was astounding, especially when compared to his previous isolation.  

 

Already there were several large crates waiting by their aircraft which had to be loaded on when they entered the shipyard. Once their supplies were in cargo bay two and the Irken had given his robot minion the cakes, which were received with a wild shriek and torn into immediately, the most that Zim could do was just lay on top of one of the crates and look to his mate pathetically, “Dib-thing. I do not think my legs work anymore.”

 

By the time everything had been completed that night, Dib was exhausted as well. They had managed to get everything they needed that was outlined on Ti’s list and had splurged on clothing for the two of them, including jumpsuits and armor that the human wasn't entirely sure they needed, but figured they'd be good to have anyway.

 

Dib had almost replaced his trench coat, but once it got dark and cooler and he tugged his own ragged, beat up jacket on, he knew he wouldn't be able to replace it. It held too many memories.

 

With all of their tasks complete and set to leave once the final deliveries arrive in the morning, Dib stood over Zim with his arms crossed and a grin on his face. He was exhausted, too, but sometimes it was fun to tease. “Want me to carry you?” he asked but didn't wait for an answer.

 

He leaned over Zim and kissed him, first softly, and then with vigor. He tucked his arms under Zim to carry him bridal style this time toward their new room, continuing to press gentle kisses to Zim's face as they headed to their room.

 

Entering the room, Dib sighed immediately. He'd forgotten that Zim bought new sheets and bedding. He placed Zim on one of the chairs. “I'll do it, you just relax right there,” he said with a nod, more to himself than to Zim, as he unpackaged their new bedding and pillows.

 

“Zim, how many pillows did you--nevermind. Don't answer that.” Not only did he not need to know the exact number of pillows the nesty Irken had ordered for their bed, but it didn't matter anyway. They'd be sleeping in a _bed_ tonight, rather than upright in the seats of the cruiser. When he had the sheets, pillows, and blankets all on the bed, Dib made his way back over to Zim, stretching and tugging his coat off, hanging it on a hook on the wall behind him and flicking off the main light. Dib's eyes adjusted quickly with his new glasses.

 

Dib kneeled down in front of Zim then, taking Zim's hand in one of his own, the other reaching up to Zim's jaw, brushing his fingers along his jaw and under, into the softer flesh there. The Irken would never admit it, but he enjoyed the scratches there, catlike. Dib's mouth tugged back into a smile, and he leaned up to kiss Zim passionately.

 

With every moment, he felt more like himself. He wanted to show Zim that their struggle, on Earth and in the Voot, wasn't for nothing. He wanted to--well. He wanted to apologize for the fighting but also apologize for the last six years and the details he hadn't found the strength to talk about for a third time, not yet.

 

Again, he lifted Zim into the air to carry him over to the bed. Once his fiancé was seated-- _damn, he loved the sound of that_ \--he kneeled down again, this time to unzip and tug off Zim's boots, slowly, sliding his hands back up his legs, stopping at his hips, before resting on the edge of the bed. He looked up at him, his expression having softened. “I love you.”

 

Even on a normal day when he was not exhausted by any definition of the word, Zim was not one to refuse being carried. Clear back in Hi Skool he had identified this as one of the very best things about having a partner so much larger than he was. So, it was with a large grin that he extended his arms, wrapping them around Dib's neck, accepting the kisses and his own personal, human shaped palanquin.

 

Already the tension between them seemed to have dissipated to nothing. It was like every argument and horrible thing that had been said, not only over the course of the last few weeks, but for years before his imprisonment. All of it was water under the proverbial bridge.

 

They had no expectations leveled against them. No duties to which they were bound. Nothing to interfere with them simply being themselves. And now that Dib seemed to be over the worst of his withdrawal, it felt as though his mate was finally remembering who exactly that was.

 

Zim hummed with amusement as he was set down and Dib began making their bed, ripping the comforters and pillows out of their airtight packages. He could have gotten up to help, but he chose to stay, as he had been instructed, sitting in the overstuffed chair in the corner of the room, content to watch the boy at work.

 

Truly, he may have gone a bit overboard with the bedding. He always did. The Irken had become incredibly fond of having a great assortment of pillows on his bed which he tended to burrow under when he would sleep. He imagined that sharing a bed might be a bit different as far as what the two of them were able to find comfortable, however he also appreciated the aesthetic of it.

 

When Dib finally returned to him, giving him gentle scratches under his chin, the Irken’s eyes closed and he purred softly at the contact. He wouldn't ever voice how much he enjoyed this particular form of affection. He would probably actively refute the fact that it had such a powerful effect on him, even though there was no denying what his mate could see with his own eyes.

 

With another kiss he was lifted and moved to the bed where he smiled softly at the human who removed his boots and caressed his legs. At Dib's soft-spoken declaration of love Zim leaned down, gently bumping his forehead against his mate's and wrapped his arms around the human's shoulders. With a soft purr he replied, “Zim loves you too, Stink.”

 

“Mm,” Dib muttered when Zim leaned against him, smiling softly. He leaned up, giving the Irken a final kiss before getting up into the bed himself, sitting alongside Zim and tugging off his own boots, followed by his shirt. There was very little shyness between the two of them these days--he may have been concerned back at his apartment, but after two weeks of sharing such close quarters, there was really nothing left to the imagination.

 

Despite this, Dib had never been the most comfortable in his own body, especially now. He hoped that soon the colour would return to his skin and the bags under his eyes would lessen. He figured he could probably use a shave, too, but there was _definitely_ not enough energy for that tonight. Maybe he’d actually sleep.

 

Tossing the shirt to his boots on the floor, he glanced over at Zim. “You ready for bed?”

 

In response to the question Zim flopped himself backward onto the mountain of pillows now on the bed. He had quite possibly never been more ready for bed in his life. Once laying down he made grabby hands toward his mate until the human joined him.

 

He adjusted his position to curl into the human's arm, resting his head on Dib's chest. The human was incredibly warm, always running hot in comparison to the Irken who was perpetually cold - Zim would never complain about this though as Dib served as his own personal heater.

 

He quite nearly fell asleep then and there, but his antennae perked at the sound of their cabin door sliding open. Tiny robotic feet scurried across the floor to the edge of the bed. GIR climbed up and nestled himself directly between them. Zim didn't say a word about it. He could not imagine that GIR wanted to sleep alone tonight any more than either of them would.

 

It was the first night on a new ship and the android had been alone every night for the last two years. No, Zim wouldn't begrudge him this one. They would get him settled in his own room another night. Zim simply wrapped his arm around the robot and allowed him to stay.

 

Dib wasn't surprised when GIR came to join them in bed. Normally, he'd throw a fit about the robot in their bed--not that they shared a bed often in the old days, but on the other hand, sometimes he and GIR would be seen cuddling on the couch together when Zim came up from the lab. But he also understood what it meant for the robot to be coming in to join them. He didn't fuss.

 

Dib tugged his glasses off, setting them off to the side, and stared up at the dark ceiling. He had intended to try to stay awake, scared of what awaited him on the other side, but the comfort of the bed slowly eased him into sleep, despite already feeling overheated.

 

His breathing settled as he fell asleep but picked up again. Zim's eyes, fading. His body arching into electricity. Plunging into a tank of water, screaming, skin hissing as he pounded against the glass. Six years of torture he'd never actually seen.

 

Dib awoke with a start, sweating. It was still late, Zim and GIR asleep next to him. He'd hardly moved. _Jesus,_ he thought, taking a deep breath to try and calm himself. He supposed sleep was out of the question, after all. He could use a cigarette but knew Gaz wouldn't have packed any in the bags. Maybe he'd be able to find a replacement somewhere. Aliens had to have their vices, too.

 

Dib shook the thought off, gently untangling himself from GIR and Zim, replacing his glasses and placing a soft kiss to his fiancé's forehead before exiting the room as quietly as possible. Zim was a risk; the Irken wasn't always the heaviest sleeper. It was easy to wake him up, but the last thing he wanted to do was explain to Zim that he was scared to go to sleep.

 

Instead, he figured he'd clear his mind wandering the ship. He had made his way back to the bridge, staring out the window into the shipyard. Even here on this tourist trap of a planet it had gotten quiet. They must not be near the big hotels or party spots. The shipyard was dark, mostly, but he could see lights around the buildings--motion lights, occasionally lighting up by what Dib could only assume was either an animal he wasn't familiar with or some sort of security guard.

 

The human crossed his arms over his chest, still shirtless and overheated. He couldn't shake the feeling of the nightmares, despite the calm of the darkness and quiet of the shipyard. He was excited about their journey, of course. Excited about all of the possibilities. He wasn't excited about the fact that they were here not by choice but because they had nowhere else to go.

 

He could feel his father's blood on his fingertips, _out, damned spot_ , like Macbeth, and could feel the crunch of the man's skull under his bat. He deserved it, he had to keep telling himself that.

 

Sighing, Dib tugged his glasses off and pressed his hands into the panel. He leaned over it, eyes squeezed tight and trying to calm his breathing. It was going to be a long night.

 

In the bed chamber the only light that cut the darkness was the gentle pulse of red emitted from Zim's PAK. Akin to a heartbeat, rhythmic and soothing, thrumming as it kept him soundly in the sleep cycle that he desperately needed. While sleep had been hard to come by for the human, the Irken had not slept at all through their whole journey thus far. He had stayed awake, piloting the ship.

 

Even in the moments where his mate had found sleep and he could have set it to autopilot to rest with the human, he did not. Choosing instead to stare into the vastness of space. Scheming and trying to put together a plan for their future in those moments when Dib had quieted.

 

After having been as close to death as he was the day, they had left Earth, Zim had needed the sleep to heal properly. But when he tried to close his eyes, all that he saw was walls of white. The feeling of water on his skin and the sound of his skin hissing flooded his senses and the Irken would jerk awake, once again drowning the memories with the sight of the stars.

 

Once he was out of the Voot that felt oppressively small, surrounding him like an observation tank he finally felt a small measure of relief. Laying comfortably with his mate and with the android he cared so deeply for, surrounded by warmth and the gentle rhythm of Dib's heartbeat his exhaustion could no longer be ignored and sleep took hold.

 

He had not noticed when Dib pulled away from him and left the bed. He likely would have been completely unaware of a full-blown battle breaking out around him. But Dib's actions were not completely unnoticed.

 

As the human exited through the sliding door robotic eyes flickered to life, subtle shades of blue joining the pulses of red to light the room. GIR looked up, noting that his master was still soundly asleep before extracting himself from under the Irken's arm. He took care to cover Zim with several extra blankets before following after Dib.

 

When he had made his way to the bridge, he saw the human leaning over the controls. GIR crossed the room, wrapping his arms around Dib's leg and spoke to him in a stage whisper that was still incredibly loud in comparison to the previous silence, “Hi Marry.”

 

Dib, of course, had heard the soft metallic patter of the robot’s feet tinkling against the flooring of the bridge. The cool, smooth floors were comforting against his bare feet.

 

He glanced down at GIR but didn’t shake him off or push him away. Instead, he smiled weakly, blurrily without his glasses, and held his hunched position over the controls of the ship. Rubbing his eyes and dropping his glasses onto the controls, he slipped over to the pilot’s chair, settling himself into the comforting fabric, tugging GIR from off his leg and into his lap, looking out into the shipyard.

 

“Hey, kid,” he said finally, his voice barely a whisper as well. Dib leaned back into the seat, kicking his feet up onto the panel and staring into the blurry darkness. He knew he should be thankful to be away from Earth. Away from the chaos. Away from that horrible life he had made for himself, and excited about the next leg of their journey. The longer he stayed awake, however, the harder it was to be optimistic. He was struggling to feel much of anything at all.

 

Looking down at his arms, Dib traced the outlines of his tattoos. He knew them well enough and they were close enough to his face that he didn’t need to grab his glasses. He could recount each one, though many he’d gotten done while in a stupor. He wondered, now, if his dad had realized he’d dropped out of school after all. Hell, the man was probably checking the credit card statements. Textbooks to tattoos.

 

GIR had given an amused giggle when he was lifted into the human's lap but soon fell silent, watching the boy's movements with curiosity. Robotic eyes followed his fingertips as he traced the images on his arms. They were pretty and colorful. The cryptids he recognized from images stored in his memory, but the information about them was nearly impossible to recall, the files now corrupted.

 

He reached a small metal hand out to touch the image of the Loch Ness monster which appeared of Dib's forearm and asked, “Why'd ya draw on yourself Marry? Master says drawings are only for paper.”

 

Dib couldn’t help but chuckle at GIR’s comment and offered a shrug. “A bunch of reasons, I guess. It’s special ink. It’s meant for skin. And I wanted to,” he said, grazing his fingers up from the Loch Ness monster up to the spaceship on his shoulder, and around to the back of his neck where he knew by memory alone the defective Invader symbol sat. He couldn’t remember if Zim had actually seen it this time around.

 

Dib opened and closed his mouth a couple times, struggling to find the words for the rest of it. GIR was just a robot--a super-intelligent one, technically, but with the mind of a small child. He found it difficult to communicate with him sometimes. “It’s like, hiding, I guess. They’re a lot nicer to look at, I think.”

 

Nicer to look at than the scars, he meant to say, but couldn’t find an adequate way to articulate it. Not that he was even sure he wanted to with Zim’s robot companion. If GIR was worried at all, Dib knew that the first person he would go to was Zim. “Do you like them?” he asked the robot, glancing down at his bright blue eyes. Maybe he should get a tattoo for GIR, too.

 

At the question GIR looked up at the human and loudly said, “I dooo!” As if he realized his error, he brought his hands to his mouth with a giggle and reiterated in a faux whisper that was the same volume as his previous statement, “ _Shhh_. _I doooooo_.”

 

The robot gave a nod and through a misinterpretation of Dib's words replied, “I likes ta hide too. Hide ‘n seeks is my _favourite_ game. Master always says he is _too busy for games_. But he plays sometimes anyway.”

 

He looked up at the human and gave him a dopey smile, “Maybe we can play again. When master and Marry aren't so sad.”

 

Dib gave GIR a gentle pat on the head, unsure what else to do. The little guy did warm his heart a bit, but he wasn't entirely in the mood. Sad was a bit of an understatement. “Of course, we will, GIR. Soon. You should head back to Zim. I think he really missed you.”

 

Gently, Dib plucked the robot up from under the arms and placed him back on the floor. “Thanks for checking up on me,” he said, his voice far quieter than the false whisper GIR used. He hoped that soon they would all feel normal again. That things would settle. A _new_ normal, he supposed, although he had no idea what that would look like.

 

“I'll be back in soon,” he offered, not sure if it was reassurance for the android or for himself.

 

GIR let out a peal of childlike laughter as he was set back onto the floor. He was not designed to distinguish things such as tone and emotion. He had grasps of these concepts, but only because was defective, his programming had gone haywire somewhere in his creation. He knew instinctively that Dib was still incredibly sad.

 

But he had been since back on Earth. When the human rescued him and Zim from the government men. He had been sad the whole time. And when he wasn't sad, he was sick. When he wasn't sick, he was mad. Mostly mad at Zim.

 

GIR didn't understand why they had been so mad and yelled so much. He had figured it had to do with the medicine Zim kept giving Dib. Medicine that was now gone. He wondered if that meant Dib wasn't sick anymore.

 

When his feet were flat on the floor GIR answered with an exuberant, “OKAY, MARRY.”

 

The android wrapped his arms once again around the human's leg before he turned, shrieking as he ran out of the bridge and back toward the room where Zim slept. When he got close to the door GIR quieted and opened it again, still finding the Irken sleeping. Snores that sounded much like a cat purring filled the silence and GIR made his way back into the bed, careful not to disturb his master.

 

Zim didn't wake at the movement, but instinctively wrapped himself around the robot, pulling GIR close to his chest as he continued to sleep.

 

Dib watched and waited as GIR made his way down the hall and into their room, staying seated for quite some time after, listening to the silence, ensuring that he hadn't woken Zim. He knew that Zim desperately needed the sleep. He doubted the Irken had rested much, if at all, throughout the journey. It'd been a long two weeks.

 

Satisfied that neither of them would be up again, Dib stood slowly, making his way over to a tool bag they had left on the bridge, kneeling down to unzip it and rummage through its contents. Dissatisfied, he stood again with a frown. Where would he--

 

Ah. First aid kit. Releasing a shaky breath, he made his way back to the control panel and dug into the cupboard below it, fishing out the first aid kid once his hands landed on it. He knew Zim would find out, and although _easier to ask for forgiveness than permission_ didn't quite fit here, in his mind it was close enough.

 

Dib tugged open the plastic case of the kit, digging through its contents. It looked like it had never been used before. He wondered if the previous owners of the ship had replaced this, too, for resale. While he didn't find a knife or a scalpel, which disappointed him, he did find a pair of surgical scissors. After testing them on the pad of his index finger, determined them more than sharp enough.

 

Rising from his position, Dib seated himself back in the pilot's chair, twisting the scissors around in his fingers a few times. Maybe he should have let GIR stay. He inhaled deeply. It was bizarre to think that the last time he'd done this couldn't have been longer than three weeks ago. It was recent, just days before Zim arrived in his parking lot.

 

He knew he was stalling. He also knew it would only help temporarily. Still, glasses still on the control panel in front of him, he pulled the scissors open and dragged one sharp blade along his wrist. The pain was nothing, really. He hardly felt it. He'd been through far worse by now. Far worse from Zim when they were kids. The sight of the blood was what helped, and Dib finally released the breath he didn't realize he was holding.

 

Take two, and he was steadier this time. Less mechanical and more surgical. Muscle memory took over. _Fuck, Dib, if it's not one vice, it's another, isn't it?_ He pushed the thought out of his head with the third steady swipe of the small blade, the other end if the scissors having dug into his fingertips. He didn't really notice, but there wasn't much blood anyway. It'd heal fast enough. Hide under calluses and tattoos.

 

Dib sliced his wrist only a few more times, carefully, keeping his breathing steady, before he leaned back into the chair and closed his eyes. He was pleased when he wasn't immediately met with nightmare visions of their time escaping Earth.

 

When Zim finally woke, he knew that he had slept far longer than intended. It took him several moments of bleary-eyed processing to become fully awake. GIR was still pressed against his chest, powered down as his power sources recharged. He was, however, otherwise alone in the big bed. He furrowed his brow, wondering just how long-ago Dib had gotten up.

 

He smoothed his hand along the human's spot, which was cool to the touch and determined that it had been quite some time.

 

The Irken extracted himself from the robot and slid out of the room, leaving GIR to charge while he set out to find Dib. It didn't take long to track him down to the bridge of the ship where he was asleep in the pilot's chair. The sight initially brought a small smile to Zim's lips, figuring that after so long of sleeping in the Voot, Dib might have found the chair more comfortable.

 

He approached quietly, intending on slipping into the human's lap and waking him with a kiss. However, the smell of iron - human blood, stopped him in his tracks. He could hear Dib breathing. He could hear the boy's heart. He was alive. A quick cursory glance of the room allowed Zim to piece together what happened. The open first aid kit, the scissors, the lines of crimson along Dib’s wrists.

 

It took every ounce of his restraint not to grab the human by his hair and rip him out of the chair. Instead he quietly sat in the copilot's seat, turning it toward Dib. Zim placed one leg over the other and folded his arms across his chest, his antennae flat against his skull as he simply waited for the human to wake on his own.

 

Dib had fallen asleep rather quickly after the activity, the bridge quiet and dark, unclear and calming without his glasses, the anxieties soothed at least temporarily, images of the horrors quelled by the sight of the blood and the sting in his wrist. It was tactile. Real. Something he could _feel_ , and it settled his mind enough to sleep.

 

However, he wasn't in a deep enough sleep to not notice the shift in energy in the room, feel a presence with him there. His eyes fluttered open after a few moments, and he let out a soft hum, eyeing the panel blearily before he saw Zim's figure out of the corner of his eye.

 

“Zim?” he murmured, feeling around for his glasses on the panel and tucking them carefully on, blinking confusedly at his fiancé's expression before it all came rushing back to him. He glanced at the mess he'd left, instinctively covered the wounds, which had stopped bleeding, with his other hand, mouth open as he struggled for words.

 

Not deer in the headlights--he knew what he had done. He knew before he did it that Zim would be upset. He didn't expect the Irken to understand and he wasn't certain he could explain it, either. It was an addiction all the same, and he knew that, but he didn't know how else to quell the dread that came with darkness and sleep.

 

Zim did not have to wait long for Dib to regain consciousness.  In fact, he woke up far quicker than the Irken had anticipated that he would. No doubt because of the seething anger that was rolling off of him in waves, the tension almost palpable in the way that it thickened the air in the bridge.

 

He cocked a brow at the sound of his name, but did not respond immediately, choosing to watch Dib intently as he fumbled to cover the damage he had done.

 

Zim let out a heavy sigh and stood from his chair, turning his back on the human as he made his way to the large window at the front of the ship. The sun had begun to rise, filling the sky with shades of purple and green. He had hoped to spend the morning showing Dib how beautiful alien landscapes could be, but he was having a hard time appreciating the sight.

 

The Irken leaned against the frame of the window and spoke quietly, knowing full well that the human would be hanging on his every word, too nervous to miss even a single syllable, “I dropped my guard for eight hours. Left you unattended for eight hours while I slept for the first time in weeks, and this is what you choose to do?”

 

He turned slightly in order to look at his fiancé, scowling as he continued, “Is the thought of this life truly so bad, Dib?”

 

Zim was right. Dib _was_ hanging onto every word, scooched to the front of the seat and leaning toward him, pressing his left forearm into his chest and covering it with his other hand still, but leaning in to listen.

 

At first, Dib felt ashamed with what he had done. He knew that cutting himself behind Zim’s back wasn’t by any means a good look. He knew he shouldn’t be hiding how he was feeling, especially so soon after arriving. He knew it was _wrong_ , but he also knew that this wasn’t something he could do in front of Zim and be okay with. It wasn’t the same as the cocaine. In a way, it almost felt worse.

 

As Zim turned and suggested the idea that the prospect of travelling space with him was the cause, he gasped audibly and recoiled back into the chair.

 

“Zim, no. Fuck. No. It’s not--it’s not about that. I’m so excited about travelling the universe with you, exploring galaxies far and wide, for you to show me everything,” Dib prattled this out quickly. If Zim couldn’t understand why he did it, at least he could understand that _no_ , it was never about Zim. It could _never_ be about Zim. Not like that.

 

Zim gave a hollow laugh at the comment, turning to face the window again. He shook his head as he replied, “Yes, I can see how excited you are. Since we left your planet you have done nothing but scream at me about drugs and try to delete yourself the moment my back is turned.”

 

The Irken spun on his heel and began to march off the bridge, pausing in front of the human and scowled down at him, “It is hard to explore the universe if you are dead, Dib. And you might say it was never about killing yourself. _You just wanted to feel something_. But if you messed up, if you hit an artery - guess who would be burying you this morning. But I doubt you actually thought about me, your fiancé, your _mate,_ at all. If you had, maybe you would have woken me up. Trusted me to talk you through it.  Maybe you would have actually treated Zim like a partner. Instead of treating this whole ordeal like an inconvenience to your indulgent self-destruction.”

 

Dib didn’t stand as Zim spoke, nor did he try to speak and interrupt him. He sat and listened, his own expression having twisted into one of offense as well as guilt. “I hate what happened on the way here and the things I said to you. I don’t think or feel any of the things I said, and I’ll regret those words for the rest of my life, but if you’re using those two weeks against me here that isn’t fair. That wasn’t _me_ ,” he started, tucking himself more firmly into his seat. He didn’t want this to turn into a proper fight, or become what it had in the cruiser, and didn’t want to be aggressive.

 

“You’re right. It’s not about killing myself, and it _is_ about feeling something. But not like you think. Not like that. Its--fuck, what sort of explanation do you want? How am I supposed to _talk_ to you about this? It’s about not being able to close my eyes without watching you die on repeat. Its--” Dib was stammering, trying to articulate what he meant and what he felt, which was difficult when he didn’t fully understand it himself. So much of it was instinct.

 

“I should have talked to you. I know. I’m not going to sit here and make excuses for that,” he muttered, tearing his eyes away and staring out the window. The sun was quite beautiful coming up over the horizon. “God, I guess it’s not even about needing to feel something. It’s about needing to feel _anything_ other than… _that_. Six years of damage doesn’t just erase itself after two weeks because I got clean. I wouldn’t expect that of you, either.”

 

Dib looked back at Zim now, letting go of his wrist and letting his hands drop into his lap. He felt the dampness and knew he’d tugged open the hardly-healed wounds, but it was the last of his concerns. “What do you want me to say?” he asked, “How am I supposed to tell the one person I have in this universe that I--” he stopped speaking then, knowing in an instant that, honestly, Zim was right.

 

It was selfish. Everything about it was selfish and he knew that, but he couldn’t help feeling this way, even though he knew he shouldn’t. “I’ve hated myself for years, Zim. I _hate_ myself. I don’t think I remember a time when I didn’t. Especially now.” Voice hardly above a whisper, he managed to choke, “How am I supposed to tell the one person that makes me want to live how _badly_ I want to die?”

 

Zim snarled at the boy's words, reaching up and tugging his antennae in frustration. He looked back down at the human and practically shouted, “How about you start with exactly that, Dib-stupid? Why not _tell me what you are feeling_? You could try treating Zim like a person. I may not understand all of your emotions, but I never will unless you _tell me.”_

 

He threw himself down into the chair opposite Dib and continued in a slightly more restrained voice, “Zim is not asking you to just stop having your feelings. I know that your brain meats are sick - that you are sad. But how do you expect me to help you if you hide from me? If you cannot trust me to even tell me when you are sick? Is this not part of the married? The talking to me? You said that it was ‘for better or worse’ so should you not tell Zim when it is worse?”

 

Dib relaxed the moment Zim sat down. It was easier when they were both level but had enough distance between the two of them to not feel as threatened as they did in the cruiser. Or, more accurately, as Zim did-- _he_ was the one that had been awful.

 

“You’re right. I should be able to trust you and talk to you about this. I know that. It’s--it’s hard to. I’m not used to being able to talk about things like this, not that it’s a good excuse.” Dib finally cautioned a glance at his wrist. It wasn’t bad--he’d done far worse in the past--but it was worse than he’d intended, and he blamed that on leaving his glasses off. Or maybe, unconsciously, he just didn’t want to know.

 

“But I do promise to try harder to talk to you and be more open,” he muttered, fidgeting. “So, now you know. What now?”

 

Zim continued to growl low in his throat, while he had gotten the promise from his mate to _try_ to talk to him about these things, he was far from satisfied and still livid. At the question of ‘what now’ the Irken pushed himself out of the chair he was occupying and grabbed the first aid kit that Dib had left out. Zim dropped to his knees in front of the boy and deposited the kit into his lap.

 

Without actually acknowledging the question he grabbed Dib's wrist and began cleaning the wounds and wrapping them. They were little more than superficial, but that did nothing to actually soothe the anger he was feeling.

 

Dib sighed softly, giving Zim full access to his wrists. He didn’t bother trying to fight, he knew it’d be for the best to have them cleaned properly, and if Zim decided this was what he was going to do, rather than continue the conversation, he would allow it. In all honesty, though, he felt more than a little dejected at the fact that he had come clean and now Zim was refusing to talk.

 

He knew the Irken well enough at this point, however, not to press the issue. Zim would talk when he was good and ready. Forcing him would only cause more of an argument, and that was the last thing that Dib wanted right now. They’d done enough fighting, and now he’d just gone and caused another rift between them. He could let Zim feel what he needed to, and act how he needed to act, without letting it cause trouble.

 

As disappointing as it would be, there was still a part of him that hoped his fiancé would drop the issue, so he wouldn’t have to talk about it more. The bigger part of him, though, knew it was necessary.

 

With mixed emotions swirling around his head and tightening his chest, Dib turned away so as to not stare at Zim while he worked, absently picking at the arm of the chair with his free hand.

 

Zim had remained quiet the entire time that he worked, cleaning Dib's arm diligently, fixing the wounds shut with butterfly bandages and wrapping them with white linen. When he had finished, he sat back on his heels, not letting go of the human's hand. He knew that it was beyond any reasonable expectation to expect Dib to be recovered from his experiences, just as he knew that it was not expected of him.

 

But this demonstration of the boy's maladaptive coping he had taken as a personal failure.

 

The Irken looked up at the human for just a moment before focusing back down at his hands, “Zim promised to keep you safe. I promised I would take care of you and show you amazing things-”

 

He trailed off a bit, uncertain of how to express all of the things that were going through his mind. Zim had never been fantastic at dealing with his own emotions, even less so at expressing them. But there was one thing that he knew was absolutely true, “I do not want you to die, Dib.”

 

Dib listed to Zim, still picking at the chair, focusing on his fingers. “I know. I know,” he muttered, unsure what to say. “I--I don’t know how to make this feeling stop. I know I shouldn’t be feeling that way. I know things should just… be better. Maybe in time.”

 

Shaking his head, Dib gave the Irken’s hand a squeeze.  He knew Zim wasn't very good at this. Hell, he wasn't anymore, either. He used to be able to talk and prattle on about whatever he was feeling. He wouldn't shut up until he had gotten it all out. The older he got, though, the more he realized nobody else cared, and those six years alone--he'd lost all of his healthy coping mechanisms. He'd lost himself.

 

“I don't know who I am anymore. I don't know how to be the person you fell in love with. You don't want me to die, but babe. That person died four years ago.” Two? He didn't want to think about their fucked-up timeline. He spent too much time having nightmares over it already. “I don't know how to make this stop except by ending it all. I don't want to hurt you.”

 

The sun had risen over the shipyard, casting a brilliant orange glow to the morning. Workers were waking, but he couldn't hear the noise of the yard inside their ship. One day on another planet, one day of semi-normalcy, and he couldn't even fake it enough to get through the night.

 

He was as much a failure now as when he couldn't find Zim. When he gave up looking. When they died twice. When he was horrible and vile in the ship. He'd given up on the paranormal, he'd given up on his studies, and he'd just shown Zim that he'd given up on his trust. To his _fiancé._

 

Dib let his head fall back into the chair, looking up at the ceiling, the cinnamon-warm morning light slipping under the bottom frame of his glasses and into his eyes. What more was there to say? How could he possibly fix the mess he made?

 

Zim had not moved from his spot, kneeling in front of Dib, holding onto his hand as the boy spoke. He did not interrupt as he spoke, even if he did not understand the excuses, necessarily. When the human had finished speaking, laying his head back onto the chair the Irken let out a heavy sigh, trying to sort out his own thoughts.

 

After a moment he spoke, slowly and methodically, careful to express his thoughts properly, “The first thing I think Dib needs to do is to stop saying that he is not who he was. You are still the human that Zim fell in love with. You are sick and has addictions. You are still my Dib. Just like Zim lost many of the things that defined me, it does not make me not Zim.”

 

He stood but took a seat on the arm of Dib's chair, smoothing the hair on the human's hair idly with his claws as he continued, “Dib should not mourn the loss of ‘who he was’ but take this an opportunity to redefine himself into who you want to be.”

 

He paused for a moment, sorting through what he was saying before adding, “You do not want to die and Zim does not want that either. But I understand that your brain is telling you that you need these things. So. If you need to be hurt to cope with these things… let Zim be the one to hurt you.”

 

The Irken focused out the window, more than a little embarrassed at his proposed intervention, “Zim can make sure it never goes too far. Make sure that you stay safe but give you what you need. Replace your self-harming interactions between you and me. You can be hurt, but Zim can keep you safe.”

 

Dib's brow furrowed as Zim was talking. He didn't understand at first what the Irken meant, but as he continued, his eyes widened in understanding. Zim would be the one to hurt him?

 

He sat up straight, immediately ready to push back. No. He couldn't let Zim do that, could he? However, the more he thought about it, the more they kind of already did. In bed, sexually, Zim would bite and choke and scratch. He knew the control Zim had. Dib--didn't. He never had. Even now, looking down at his bandaged wrist, it was superficial sure, but still deeper than he'd intended.

 

Slowly, Dib began to nod. “Okay. I think I can agree to that,” he said, carefully wrapping his bandaged arm around Zim. It was grounding whenever he felt the remnants of the wounds. His own scars or the ones Zim gave him--the bite on his neck now scar tissue but healed--the stinging or tenderness always reminded him of where he was, that he was alive, and they were together.

 

Perhaps adding Zim to the routine, bringing him in to be a part of it, would be productive for both of them. They could rebuild the trust that he had broken, and Dib could have the pain and the blood like he needed to feel grounded. No danger, either, not really. Zim _would_ keep him safe. He never broke promises.

 

“That's what we'll do, then,” he said, giving his fiancé a light squeeze. His brow was still twisted in thought as he processed how this might work, and what Zim had in mind.

 

Zim let out a sigh of relief when Dib readily agreed to the proposition and wrapped his arm around his lithe form. He had hoped that the solution would be well received. Truthfully, it was not only an exchange that would work for the boy, but for him as well. The Irken had no delusions about his own sadistic tendencies, which to date were most often fulfilled by hurting Dib anyway.

 

But this would be different. A mutual exchange of trust, submission and dominance in a controlled and consenting environment. Meant to heal far more than actually harm.

 

He only hoped that the both of them would be able to remain healthy in the exchanges and he knew that before they actually started down this path there would have to be a whole other conversation about boundaries, limits, ways to end the exchanges should they need to be. But for now, Dib's willingness to supplement self-destruction with this was enough to satisfy him.

 

When he was given a gentle squeeze Zim slipped into Dib's lap, though he was still focusing out the large window, watching as the sky lightened from purple and green into the light pinks that were its typical hues. The Irken was still upset but knew that this was about as productive of an exchange as he could have hoped for, given the circumstances.

 

Zim leaned back against Dib's chest and rested his hands on the boy's arm, tracing the still exposed tattoos with the pad of his thumb, hoping he had made the right call. His voice was quiet, a complete one-eighty from his previous shouting at the human as he agreed, “Yes. That is what we will do.”

 

Letting Zim slip into his lap, Dib squeezed him again. He didn’t say anything for a while, just feeling Zim’s thumb against his skin and the comfort of him in his personal space. He only nodded, leaning down to kiss Zim’s throat, his jaw, before tilting his chin up and kissing him soundly on the mouth.

 

“I love you, Zim,” he said once he’d pulled back, still holding onto his jaw and tracing the line of it with his fingertips. “And yeah, that means for better or for worse. For both of us. I know we need to be there for one another. We’re all we’ve got. I need to trust you.”

 

Dib dropped his hand then from Zim’s jaw, sliding it down to rest gently on his hip as he looked out the window. The shifting light of the sunrise here was far more beautiful than that of Earth. Something looked not quite right about it, the way the first orange light twisted purple and green before it settled into that soft, comforting pink. He knew they should get dressed and get ready (Dib could very much use a shower) and finish up their tasks on Glort. Move on to the next adventure, fully stocked, and prepared to deal with the next time he feels like this.

 

The human had only realized his grip had tightened and heart rate quickened as he felt his fingers pressing into Zim’s hip and realized he’d been spacing out into the sunrise silently for far too long. He felt himself flush, could feel the heat under his cheekbones as he considered Zim’s proposition further, tugging his lip between his teeth and biting it soundly. Maybe it was too soon. They had things to do and places to go. Maybe it was only an offer rather than a serious proposition. He was too nervous to ask.

 

Zim had not offered any resistance to the kisses that Dib placed on his jaw and lips, content to accept the affection as a reassurance that they would be able to successfully move past this. Truly, it was one of their most successful arguments to date. Only a single insult had been thrown between them and they came out the other side talking rationally with a plan to move forward. Neither of them had walked away and they saw it through to their conclusion, all in all, it felt like a big step forward in their communication, even if it had been uncomfortable.

 

Zim had returned the ‘I love you,’ gently bumping his forehead against Dib's chin as the human moved his hands to rest on the Irken's slender waist. The shift in the human's demeanor was impossible to miss. Even without actively looking at him, Zim was able to smell the heightened hormones and feel the heat radiating off of him. It was not quite the same as the physical queues that the boy gave when he would try to initiate sexual a tie with him in hi Skool - there was more nervousness, more trepidation that tainted the smell of him.

 

Zim knew what he wanted, though there was a part of him that was surprised he wanted it so soon after cutting himself and arguing with Zim. But the Irken had made him a promise to fill this role and he intended on keeping to his word, “Dib, I refuse to make assumptions off of your body language. That sets an unhealthy precedent. I need you to use your words.”

 

Dib could feel his blush deepen as Zim spoke. He was right, of course--the Irken was very rarely wrong. If they were going to do this, they should do it right and do it safely like Zim had said.

 

He nodded slowly, opening and closing his mouth a few times while he struggled to find the words. “I want--hm,” he stopped himself, still worrying his lip. _C’mon, Dib, you have to get used to vocalizing_ , he thought and took a deep breath before he continued, “I want you to hurt me.” He found his voice quieting the closer he came to the end of the sentence. He honestly felt a little ashamed of it, asking Zim to do this for him. It was almost less shameful to hide it, at least in his mind. Maybe they’d get comfortable with it. Or maybe they never would.

 

Dib fidgeted with his fingers against Zim’s clothing, not sure if he should say more, or what else Zim might need to hear before continuing. He’d never done anything like this, and he was certain Zim hadn’t either. “Sorry. That came out weird. I don’t--” raising one of his hands, he coughed awkwardly into it and rubbed the back of his neck, then up into his hair. “If you want. If it’s okay, that is. We don’t have to. We can wait, or we can just not. But I--” he stopped again, forcing himself to take a few deep breaths to settle himself.

 

He felt like he was crawling out of his own skin. Was this like, the modern form of bloodletting? He almost rolled his eyes at the thought. He didn’t even know if Zim would do the same thing he did to himself--cutting. Dib didn’t know where or how, and that was almost as terrifying as actually asking his mate to hurt him.

 

Zim listened intently as Dib worked through what he needed and wanted at the moment. Honestly the very first statement would have been good enough, but Zim was also aware that there was a lesson to be learned here and that Dib had to work through the blocks he had about communicating these kinds of things, so the Irken remained quiet while he spoke.

 

It was also important for this first request to be met openly and receptively.  The very last thing he would want to do is to shoot Dib down, that would only serve to make him even less likely to reach out in the future. When the human had finished speaking Zim leaned forward, grabbing a small disinfectant wipe from within the open first aid kit on the ship's control panel. As he ripped it open, he turned in the boy's lap to face him.

 

He pressed forward, placing a soft kiss on Dib's lips and softly responded, “I love you, Dib.”

 

He did not draw attention to the fumbling of the boy's request, instead he took the wipe and cleaned the surface of Dib's arm as well as the incredibly sharp claw on his thumb. He focused the whole of his attention on his mate's skin, pressing his claw hard into the crook of his elbow, hard enough to break the skin, but far from any of the veins he could see beneath the surface. Slowly and diligently he dragged the claw down the length of Dib's arm, leaving a vivid line of crimson in his wake.

 

When he reached the boy's wrist the Irken paused, glancing up to measure the reaction the action gained to determine if more was needed.

 

Dib couldn’t help the nerves as Zim prepped his skin and his own claw before getting to ‘work’. He continued chewing on the inside of his lip and could feel himself shake as thoughts and feelings fired off in all directions. Zim’s response was good, though, and gentle--it was more comforting than he’d expected. He hadn’t been sure that Zim would follow through with this at all.

 

The human released a soft gasp at the feeling of his fiancé’s nail breaking the skin but held his breath as he watched his thumb slide down the length of his forearm, blood pooling at the surface of the wound.

 

It stung, but in a different way than the scissors had. They had been surgically sharp whereas Zim’s nails--sharp in their own way--hurt instantly and differently. He realized quickly, too, that he preferred this feeling anyway.

 

He had stopped chewing his mouth, open slightly now as he observed Zim’s movement, watched his skin split from the sharp pressure, releasing the breath only when his mate had finished. Licking his lips, he cautioned a glance to Zim’s face, his voice quiet as he spoke. “Can--you do that again?”

 

Zim did not respond audibly but gave a gentle nod as he turned back to his mate's arm, moving over just a fraction of an inch to make a parallel line nearly identical to the first. The cuts were not deep, barely breaking through the first few layers of skin. He doubted that they would even scar any more than a cat's scratch would. But he understood that it was not the scar, but the sensation and the sight of the blood that his fiancé needed from the exchange.

 

They would likely hurt for a day, maybe two. They would sting and the uncomfortable sensation of them rubbing against his trench coat would serve as a reminder that they were there and that Zim was willing to do this for him.

 

When the second scratch had reached the human's wrist instead of looking up at Dib for further instruction Zim leaned forward, licking the trace amounts of blood from Dib's forearm with delicate swipes of his tongue and with gentle kisses. He had always enjoyed the way that Dib's blood had tasted, so it was not out of his comfort zone to taste it now. But he wanted to solidify that this was not meant for pain, but for healing and trust.

 

Dib could feel the tension release from his shoulders at the second line down his arm, his body relaxing into the chair. Absently, he reached forward and took Zim’s free hand in his own, giving it a squeeze as he marred Dib’s skin.

 

He wasn’t expecting Zim to kiss and lick the wounds, cleaning up the mess of blood that had begun to drip down his arm, but he wasn’t entirely surprised either. His mate tended to do the same with his bites and scratches in bed. It seemed different now, though; it was comforting in a different context. He knew that Zim was doing this for him out of love, and the fact that he was willing to do this for him had begun to ease the wounds in his heart, too. Maybe he wouldn’t need this forever but knowing that the person he loved would be here to help him through those thoughts and feelings, give him what he needed, relaxed the human significantly.

 

Giving the Irken’s hand another squeeze, he hoped that would be enough to tell Zim that they could be done for now. He didn’t know how to express his gratitude to his love for being here for him in this way, so he remained silent, his breathing steadied.

 

Zim could feel the shift of energy when Dib was satisfied, and he took just a moment to once again clean the boy's wounds. It occurred to the Irken that he would likely become rather adept at human first aid rather quickly with their new arrangement. Not a skill he had ever thought he would have in his repertoire.

 

With Dib's wounds clean Zim straightened himself a bit to wrap his arms around his mate's shoulders. He was not sure what it was that he was expected to say or do at this point. What could one really say to their partner after helping them indulge in self-harming behaviours? After just a moment Zim pressed his cheek against the crown of Dib's skull and settled on simply asking, “Are you okay?”

 

Dib leaned into Zim’s touches, letting his eyes slip closed. He let them sit in silence for a few minutes, some tension palpable in the air, but he felt much more at ease. Far more, even, than he had after he’d harmed himself and slipped to sleep in the very chair he was currently seated in.

 

At Zim’s question, he nodded slowly, opening his eyes once again. “I’m okay. I’m good,” he said, rolling a shoulder to pop it, doing the same with his free wrist. “Thank you. I know--I know that’s maybe not the most fun thing to do, but it helps. It really, really helps.”

 

He was familiar with that feeling of scars rubbing against his clothing, tender as he moved. They were reminders, back then, of getting so low he didn’t know how else to get out that energy. A reminder of being so overwhelmed with the feelings of self-hatred that he’d caved and carved into his skin. This was nothing like that--even last night he’d felt ashamed, sneaking off to cut his wrists. Instead, he was processing. Zim would know he was in a bad way the next time he asked, would be there to support him through those feelings. Talk. Allow for the same release without needing to hide it.

 

Zim kept his grip tight as Dib spoke, clinging to him perhaps a little tighter than he needed to. He nodded at the response and replied, “This is not supposed to be fun. I do not expect it to be. But it is necessary.”

 

He let the words hang there as he held onto the human, not once since he had entered the bridge this morning had his antennae moved from their position, flattened back against his skull. Sadness, anger, and helplessness were the prominent feelings that he held onto, but he still took some comfort knowing that they had this plan to move forward and keep his mate safe from himself.

 

After a few more moments he pulled back slightly to look down at the human and suggested softly, “Dib-thing should get ready. Zim is done with this planet. We should start the day, yes?”

 

As Zim pulled back, Dib did as well, leaning toward the edge of the chair and looking up at Zim as he spoke. “Yeah. I suppose we should, shouldn’t we?” he asked, offering a weak smile as he stood up and stretched. He wasn’t able to reach high above his head, but he finally had more than enough room to move and be comfortable in their ship. And he _was_ looking forward to the next leg of their adventure.

 

Dib turned to Zim, taking his hands tightly in his own before pulling Zim into his chest, holding him firmly by the small of his back and the back of his head. They had been affectionate with each other, but not to the amount that Dib normally preferred. He knew he was touchy, maybe even a little clingy. He used to get shit for it, back in the old days. Now, they were engaged. They were mates. Zim was willing to give him every release he needed, be it this or in other ways.

 

He wanted to make up for the last two weeks. He held Zim tightly for a few moments, kissing the top of his head before pulling back and smiling weakly down at him. It’d take some time for them to be comfortable with this new routine. “I love you, Zim. More than anything. Let’s get this day started and get the hell out of here.”

 

Zim accepted being tugged into the hug, held and the top of his head being kissed. Truly, it was his instinct to push it away, but he was working diligently to keep those instincts firmly in check. Both of them had been through so much that he knew all of the little expressions of affection were profoundly important as they moved on from the horror show that was Earth.

 

He quietly repeated Dib's sentiment before climbing off of the boy's lap and straightening his clothes and offering the human a hand to help him out of the chair.

 

Once the human was standing Zim placed his hand on the small of Dib's back and gave him a gentle push toward the exit of the bridge and prompted, “Yes, go wash your filth. Your clothes are in the room. Do try to not wake GIR if you can manage it.”

 

Dib was not certain he could manage to not wake GIR. He could bang around purposefully trying to wake the android and he’d sleep through it. He could walk in without making a single sound, and he’d be awake instantly. With a joking roll of his eyes he said, “I’ll do my best,” before standing and kissing Zim gently.

 

He turned then, making his way first to the bathroom. He overheated last night, and a shower was the first thing on his mind. He could grab the clothes and get dressed after--it wasn’t like he was worried about GIR and Zim himself had seen him in some _very_ revealing positions. He just hoped that it was soundproof enough that the water wouldn’t put Zim on edge.

 

Once in the bathroom, Dib closed and locked the door, first turning on the shower to a cool temperature before examining his wrist. He figured he could leave the bandage around his wrist and knew that it would all sting from the water--it’d be just as welcome of a feeling. His eyes trailed up from the marks on his arms, into the large mirror above the sink.

 

He almost missed the cracked glass and broken door of his familiar shithole apartment. He could see himself too clearly, the paleness of his skin and the way it settled over his bones, slightly malnourished, still sickly-looking, the tattoos a stark contrast. He trailed his other hand up, into the raven-black scythe on top of his head and could feel the tension rising in his chest again. He took a deep breath, immediately rummaging around in the cabinet under the sink. The previous owners of the ship had kept this place fully stocked when they left, and he and Zim gathered whatever other supplies they needed from off Ti’s list, things he may not have thought of. Toothbrush, razors, soap and the like--his hands landed on a cloth bag that he tugged out and settled on the counter before he began to fish through it.

 

He found another pair of scissors, far more dull than the surgical scissors in the first aid kit, as well as an electric razor, both of which would suit his purposes.

 

 _Fuck that man_ , he thought to himself, first shearing his way through the locks in their ‘family’s’ signature lightning bolt style, discarding the relieved hair into the garbage bin as the shower ran in the background. He hadn’t gotten himself a haircut in quite some time, either, any version of self-care thrown out the window as he descended further into his addiction. He cleaned up the sides and back of his hair with the electric razor. Once he was finished, he shrugged--okay, not perfect by any means, but absolutely better than having to see the professor’s face every time he looked into the mirror. Zim wouldn’t have to see it, either.

 

Satisfied, the human undressed and stepped into the cool, high-pressure stream of water, relaxing as if rinsing out the last few strands of tension in his muscles that hadn’t been relieved from their new activity just minutes ago. His arm stung, but the rest of him cooled and calmed. When even was the last time he showered? Zim cleaned him up as best as he could when they first got free of earth, discarding most of his bloody clothes and cleaning up his wounds, ensuring that they wouldn’t get infected.

 

While the cold water felt amazing against his warm skin, he turned and added more heat to the stream. He hadn’t showered in some time, and knew that some hot, hot water would be more than a little necessary, along with the bar of soap that he scrubbed himself with quite desperately, his hands roaming over the scars of his bullet wounds, bicep and shoulder, the bruising finally starting to settle on the top of his right foot, along with the scar along the side of his head, just above his ear, that was hidden under his hair during that last ‘round’.

 

Somehow, he and Zim had managed to survive. He didn’t know if it was pure determination, combined skill, or the level of honesty he’d opened with the moment he woke up in the hospital, or perhaps some combination of all of the above. However, they had made it out alive and together, and here they were--time for a fresh start.

 

Coping in as healthy a manner as they could muster. Being _clean_. A new look. He could hardly see any of the young Dib left in him, aside from the trench coat and heavy boots. Old t-shirts that they’d since replaced.

 

He spent longer in the shower than perhaps necessary, wanting to not just wash off the filth but also the reminders of Earth, letting the hot water cleanse him both literally and figuratively. When he was done, he turned off the water and stepped out, drying himself with one of the towels hanging on the wall, and wrapped it loosely around his hips before exiting the room and going to grab some clean clothes.

 

He remained as quiet as he could so as to not wake GIR, rummaging through the bags for a pair of clean black pants and a black t-shirt with a blue chemistry set graphic on it. He tugged them on and kicked on a pair of chunky sneakers rather than his boots. He knew he was going to be way too hot either way. He eyed his jacket on the wall for a moment. That thing was going to need to be cleaned, too. He refused to replace it, but it definitely couldn’t be worn anymore looking like that.

 

Once he had sent Dib on his way to get ready, hearing the bathroom door close and lock the Irken flopped down into the chair that the human had just occupied, rubbing his temples to soothe some of his own tension. He was unsure if he was making the right decision here and for a moment, he wished that he had the boy's sister at easy access to confer with.

 

But they had not yet set up any points of communication with her and he knew that Dib would view him reaching out to her without discussing it as a sort of betrayal. So, for now, they would work with the best alternative available to them.

 

After a few moments Zim lifted himself from the chair and made his way down the hall to their bed chambers. Slipping inside, he could easily see that GIR was still charging. He knew that he was going to have to run a full diagnostic on the robot to see the full extent of damage to his already corrupted circuitry. So far, GIR had seemed functional to him. But far more muted, subdued. He still shrieked and ran about, but Zim knew that there was some damage there. He only hoped he could fix it.

 

Zim tiptoed across the room to where several bags of the clothing they had purchased sat. He poked through them, finally settling on an outfit. A dark purple, form fitting jumpsuit which was cut quite low in the back as well as a wide necked, vividly pink vest that was customized for his PAK and some knee-high boots.

 

He slung the clothes over his arm and grabbed a purple bag of toiletries that he had purchased for himself before exiting the room with just as much care. He made his way into the next bedchamber, choosing to get ready in there instead of risk waking GIR. He tossed the clothing onto the bed before digging into the bag. It was full of oils, lotions and disinfectants.  The Irken was unable to shower, at least in a traditional sense but that did not mean that he did not desperately need to clean himself.

 

It was a painstaking process of cleansing his skin, but he was still finished and fully dressed before Dib was done with his shower. The final touch was a black leather gun holster and belt pouch which he strapped around his waist and thigh. He was satisfied with the look, overall. Definitely different than his invader uniform, but he had purposely avoided any clothing that reminded him too much of it. It was time to redefine, just as he had said to his mate earlier.

 

Zim passed by the bathroom, laughing to himself at the sound of the water still running and decided to wait for Dib on the bridge. He spent the time programming the worst computer and visor he had purchased for himself yesterday and syncing them to both his PAK and the ship's mainframe.

 

When Dib was finally ready and dressed, he eased his way out of the room carefully to let GIR finish charging, walking with soft steps to meet Zim on the bridge, unsurprised to see him already there. Normally it took Zim quite some time to clean up and get ready, but that extra-long shower and trimming of his hair was a necessity.

 

“All set?” he asked, placing a hand on the back of the pilot's seat, both eager and nervous to hear what Zim had to say about his new look. He definitely preferred it, and it was just another step to redefining who they were and how he wanted to be seen. He didn't want any reminders of the man that created him.

 

At the sound of his mate's voice Zim tilted his head upward, looking at the boy upsidedownishly through his neon pink visor. The visor itself did not distort the color of his vision, it was merely the color that individuals looking at him would see. At the sight of Dib and the drastic change he had undergone since he saw him about thirty minutes prior the Irken swiveled in the chair to look at him properly.

 

Not only did the human look better in his opinion, but there was no denying that he smelled immensely better.

 

Zim stood and gave the human a smile, wrapping one arm around Dib's waist, the other he brought up to run his fingers through the much shorter mop of hair on top of his head. He pressed against the boy and cooed softly, “This is a good look for you, Stink. Zim likes it.”

 

Dib grinned down at Zim after his compliment, letting his fiancé muss his hair up that he had just finished styling. A little messy was a good look, anyway. “Thanks. I think I did a bit of a botched job of it. But it feels much better.” It felt like a weight lifted off of him, both figuratively and literally, not having realized how heavy the hair on his head actually was.

 

Zim's outfit looked incredible, and his skin had regained that slight luster that Dib had gotten used to as a teenager. It actually gave him pause, he had almost forgotten how beautiful his skin was and the way those oils made him smell delectable, even to his human senses.

 

He hummed softly, reaching up to take Zim's hand from his hair and hold it loosely in his own. “You look great,” he said, flushing slightly. “I'd say let's finish our business and get the hell out of this tourist trap.”

 

Zim chuckled at the boy's assessment, tussling his hair a bit more vigorously, leaving him with a generally unkempt, bed head kind of look. With a smile he shrugged and replied, “I can clean it up a bit later. You didn't do half bad, honestly.”

 

After that he pulled back, giving a single turn to let Dib take a look at the whole outfit, figuring his mate would probably appreciate the plunging back of the jumpsuit, even if it did expose a myriad of the pink scars that would likely never heal. Once he was facing the boy again, he replied, “Definitely a change from my uniform, but I guess I will adjust.”

 

The Irken grabbed hold of the human's hand and guided him out of the bridge, explaining his plan as they walked, “We have essentially all of the supplies that he need, all that is left over is filling the water and fuel tanks of the ship. That and I was going to get some toys. For GIR, of course. But he will need some entertainment.  As soon as that is done, we are out of here, hopefully never ever looking back.”

 

Dib blushed at Zim’s compliment, which only deepened as Zim got up and gave a spin in his new outfit. “I like it much better than the uniform, anyway,” he muttered. The jumpsuit and overshirt followed the Irken’s curves precisely, each line following the natural flow of his form. As he really took the outfit in, he had the sudden urge to kick GIR out of the bedroom, drag Zim in, and take that outfit off.

 

He shook his head free of those thoughts. Finishing up their business here and moving on was their number one priority. As visually appealing as this planet was, it was busy, overpopulated, and centralized toward consumerism in far too familiar a fashion. He wasn’t certain where they would go next, but he hoped it wouldn’t be another planet like this.

 

The toys for GIR, though, were a good idea. He was sure they could find something similar to his piggies, and the robot needed some entertainment of his own. Dib understood at this point that while he was a robot, his artificial intelligence and the corruption in his code gave him a legitimate personality of his own.

 

Dib took Zim’s hand in response and followed him out of the ship, immediately regretting the blacks of his outfit, but he didn’t much care for other colors. It was damn hot on this planet, which he was certain was fine for Zim, which prompted a thought. He gave Zim’s hand a squeeze as a sign that he wanted attention. “What’s Irk’s ecosystem and environment like?” He knew Zim was basically cold-blooded, so it made him wonder. Not that they had any intentions of going there, knowing what he knew about Zim’s past and status as ‘defective’. They were practically refugees.

 

Zim was perfectly at ease with the temperature of this planet. It was hot, humid, and perfect for him. It was the inhabitants and the general vibe that was off putting to him. At Dib's question Zim gave a shrug, walking alongside the human, having to take two steps for every one of Dib's much longer strides to keep pace with him.

 

“Irk used to have an environmental similar to this. Rather temperate, many plants similar to the ones you see here. Though, far less of the surface was covered in buildings, most of our structures were underground to preserve the natural environment,” he brought one gloved hand up rubbing the back of his neck, “At this point… it is uninhabitable on the surface. The majority of the flora and fauna were destroyed during Operation Impending Doom One.”

 

Zim dropped his hand as they reached the directory and he began looking for a promising toy store and commented, “After Zim destroyed the surface the temperature dropped significantly. That is why The Tallests now live in The Massive, along with the majority of Irkens. Irk is essentially only used to breed smeets, which are then transported to The Massive after their training beneath Irk's surface.”

 

He finally chose a store, bringing to life another one of the disks which they had used for transport the previous day. He stepped on and pulled Dib along with him letting the transportation system whisk them away to their next destination, “It used to be rather pretty, to be honest. Now it is barren, there is a lot of snow.”

 

Dib frowned as he listened to Zim speak, letting himself get pulled along to the directory and onto the strange transportation disc. It was much less exciting the second time around, at least on a planet like this. He wanted to go somewhere far more natural, somewhere less hustle and bustle like this. It didn’t even feel much like a vacation spot with the number of people constantly around them. Perhaps they just weren’t in the right place for ‘hot, relaxing vacation’, but either way, he was already excited to get out of here.

 

“I didn’t know that,” he commented; he remembered that Zim had destroyed a significant portion of the planet during Operation Impending Doom One. Zim had mentioned that before. But he hadn’t known that it made that significant of an impact on the planet. He also wasn’t _entirely_ sure what Operation Impending Doom was, except the fact that number Two was when Zim arrived on Earth. He was thankful for that, at least.

 

“I suppose that makes sense though,” he continued, “and snow is pretty. I think there’s a sort of beauty in the barren too, you know? Maybe a little more melancholy, but still.” Dib offered only a shrug as a conclusion to his statement, not knowing where else to push the conversation. It wasn’t much necessary.

 

They arrived fairly quickly at the shop that Zim had selected. If anything, those transport discs were handy in getting them exactly where they wanted to go in a timely manner. Hopefully they could grab the toy, deal with the water and fuel tanks, and be on their merry way.

 

Zim gave another shrug as he stepped off the disk and headed toward the shop, “Snow is pretty, from a distance.  But it is less so when a good ninety percent of the life forms on your planet cannot live with those temperatures.  There are a large number of species that were native to Irk which are now completely extinct.”

 

He spoke those words matter of factly, having long ago come to terms with the repercussions of his actions that day. He may have never actively conquered a planet, but he had more blood on his hands than likely any other Irk.

 

He stepped into the shop and was almost immediately overwhelmed by the number of nonsensical toys around him. He was never fantastic at this. So, he grabbed a basket and simply started throwing every fifth toy on the shelf into it as he asked, “Why the interest in Irk, Stinky?”

 

Dib followed Zim into the store and watched with amusement as the Irken collected random toys and tossed them into the basket. He knew GIR would be happy with receiving almost anything. The little robot was very easily satisfied and even easier to entertain. He was gonna go nuts for all the new toys to play with. He wondered absently if the robot had finished… Charging? By now.

 

“Oh, I'm not sure,” he said in response to Zim's question, rubbing the back of his neck and into the shaved crop of hair. “I guess I just don't know much about your past, or your race really. You've given me bits and pieces but you're the only one I've met. So, I'm not sure whether I can qualify your experiences as the standard, and least in a sociological context.” Was that racist? He wasn't sure what counted as racism when it came. To alien species.

 

Reaching up, Dib grabbed an odd-looking toy from off one of the higher shelves. He pulled it down, turning it around in his hands and making himself jump as it squeaked. It looked like some sort of deer-like creature, but with… Way too many… Arms? It gave him the heebie jeebies. Its squeaking and dead eyes would haunt his dreams. GIR would love it.

 

Dib added it to Zim's basket with a roll of his eyes.

 

Zim had paused while Dib examined the terrifying toy and placed it into the basket. He raised a brow beneath his visor and questioned the human, “You met Tak. Knew her long enough to see her get her ass kicked and take ownership of her ship, which is funding this little excursion, so thank yous Tak.”

 

He pulled a few other toys off the shelf, purposely skipping over a few of the louder looking ones. The Irken picked up a device quite reminiscent of a human laser pointer and chucked it into the basket as he added, “I suppose that she is a better example of an Irken than Zim is. More of what you can expect from Irks as a whole. That is why people are afraid of us.”

 

He gestured down the toy aisle, which was empty apart from them, while the rest of the store was quite busy, as if to prove his point, “Parents will not even let their smeets near Zim. Not that I am complaining, smeets are not my favourite thing anyway, but you sees the point, yes?”

 

He shrugged and tossed a rubber squid like creature into the basket and turned toward the register and speaking over his shoulder, “Zim thinks that you and I will not be the only ones who will be glad to see us leave the planet.”

 

Dib frowned down the hallway. “Yeah, I suppose I remember Tak. She was scary,” he muttered, commenting on what Zim said, but his thoughts were mostly elsewhere. Had Irk really built up this image of itself and its people? Obviously, they had. He knew this much: Irkens aimed for control, domination, power. They were _invaders_.

 

However, the more he thought about it, the more he knew that couldn't be the whole story. What about the doctors, the teachers, the food service employees? What about the civilians? Was this actually a case of racism? Was something deeper going on here that he didn't have enough information to see?

 

He wasn't bullied for his race until they hit high school and his white-passing skin tone deepened, partially from summers spent in the sun and running around in the woods. After high school, he didn't hear it at all anymore aside from a passing comment here and there. Then he stopped leaving his house. It was always lowest on his list of priorities. He was sure it was for Zim, too. The thoughts bothered him all the same.

 

The human had opened his mouth to speak, to ask for more information, but decided to bury it down and change the subject, hoping Zim wouldn't ask.

 

Down the hall, like a beacon of light, Dib saw something _he_ really wanted: a bat. Instinctually, he snatched Zim's hand and pointed at it. “Oooh. That's pretty.” Very clearly metal. It looked heavy. There were delicately painted lines of bright blue running down the length of it. Dib made his way over, about to pick it up, when he changed his mind and turned to Zim.

 

“Okay. What's the catch? This can't just be some boring baseball bat. I doubt there even _is_ baseball.” Something had to be up with it. This was an alien planet, for Christ's sake. He couldn't expect to find the same things he did on Earth.

 

Zim was stopped in his tracks, nearly losing his balance when the human grabbed hold of him and tugged him towards the bats. An endeared smile caught his lips, fully aware of how much the boy liked to use this particular toy as a rather effective weapon. The Irken passed the shopping basket to his mate and approached the bats, plucking one from the wall.

 

He also grabbed a thick metal bracelet from beside it, slipping it onto his wrist as he looked at his companion and smirked, “You cannot think that hitting a ball with a stick is unique to your planet. I assure you, other races have figured this out, Stinky.”

 

He glanced around to make sure that he had enough room to not hit anyone. Unsurprisingly the area was clear, though Zim was able to see a few smeets looking in their direction from further into the store. He made a tossing motion with his hand that he had slipped the bracelet onto, a small holographic blue ball forming and seeming to solidify midair. As it dropped Zim swung the bat, connecting with the ball that soared through the store, hitting with the opposite wall and exploded in a shower of harmless multicolored light.

 

The Irken chuckled at the sight which had caused a few squeals of delight from the kids in the store, sounds that were quickly quieted by their watchful parents. He slipped off the bracelet and handed both it and the bat to Dib, giving him a shrug, “Right now, just a toy. But Zim thinks he can work on it. Get it if you want.”

 

Dib watched in awe as Zim whacked the ball against the wall and grinned at the giddy reactions of the children. If Zim could turn it into something actually useful, it was definitely what he wanted. He accepted the bat and glove, feeling it in his hand. It wasn't as heavy as it looked. “It'll need to be weighted, too.” He didn't want to accidentally send the bat soaring. Even Gaz’s bat had been lighter than what he was accustomed to.

 

Nodding, more to himself than Zim, he looked into the basket. This had to be more than enough for GIR. “I'd say we're done here. Let's check out and get on our way, yeah?” he asked, making his way up to the cashier.

 

Zim nodded his agreement and followed the human to the register where he paid for the toys. Soon they were laden with their bags full of nonsense, or more accurately, Dib walked with arms full of bags while Zim examined the bat his mate had purchased, pondering to himself the best way to modify the thing.

 

It didn't take them long to make their way back to the shipyard, regardless of the crowds as they seemed to part for them as they walked.

 

Once they were inside the ship once again Zim took one of the bags from Dib with a grin, shoving the bat into his hand and immediately made his way to the bedroom where he had left GIR. The tiny android was no longer in the bed. He felt anxiety flood his chest, guilt for leaving GIR on his own filling him. But the Irken paused, straining his antennae and finally caught the sound of life from elsewhere on the ship, unsurprisingly- the kitchen.

 

Anxiety was replaced with amusement as he slid open the door to reveal his SIR unit sitting inside one of the crates of food they had purchased, emptying a bag of crisps into his mouth. Zim shifted the bag of toys into his hip and called out, “GIR, those supplies are supposed to last the next two months.”

 

The android jerked upright, shrieking at the sight of the Irken. He shouted, “MASTER,” as he launched himself out of the crate and threw his arms around Zim's legs. He could always count on GIR to be profoundly happy to see him. No matter how awful he had been. GIR always viewed him as faultless, never said anything unkind to him. He could not say that he had given the SIR the same respect. But he had come to realize just how much the droid meant to him.

 

He was never great at showing emotion, however. The Irken lowered the bag for the SIR unit and rattled off, “These are for you, GIR. Do not leave them laying around my ship. If I trip on a toy, it goes out the airlock. Understood?”

 

The off-putting declaration seemed to do nothing to dash GIR's enthusiasm as he tore into the bag, immediately seizing the terrifying deer thing that Dib had picked out for him and giving it a squeeze.  Zim offered only a grin before turning and making his way back toward the bridge.

 

Dib was happy to have returned to the ship, accepting the bat into his only free hand, rolling his eyes as he carried the rest of the bags with him to the bridge. He set them off to the side, flopping himself down this time in the copilot seat, twisting and turning the bat around in his hand and considering how Zim might alter it into something useful.

 

He glanced up as he saw Zim leave the bedroom and head down the hall, but he simply shrugged his shoulders and returned his attention to the bat. His arm scratched uncomfortably against the sleeve of his shirt, startling him, but he quickly remembered what it was. He still wasn't sure how to feel about that, and their conversation, nor their discussion about how most alien species regard Irkens.

 

It had been a really odd day, flooded with deep, intense conversation that he and Zim now seemed to be ignoring. He twisted the bat around in his hand, feeling the texture of it and tracing the lines while he contemplated the day. He wasn't sure if he wanted to talk to Zim about any of this or if he wanted to hold off until they got off the planet.

 

Dib turned himself to look out the front window of the ship, absently twisting the bat around in his hand and lost in thought, so much so that he hadn't heard Zim approaching.

 

The Irken stepped onto the bridge, his foot falls feather light, quite nearly silent as he moved. He immediately saw his mate in the copilot's chair and he paused for just a moment to run his fingers through the boy's freshly cropped hair before dropping himself into the captain's seat.

 

He had told Dib that he thought it was a good look for him, but truly Zim appreciated the change far more than he had vocalized.  He had not fully realized how stressful the sight of the scythe of hair had become. For years he had come to associate it not with Dib but rather with the visage of the late Professor Membrane.  The appearance of that man had always spelled horrible atrocities for Zim, in the name of science. It made sense to him now that it was keeping him constantly on edge.

 

Zim engaged the engines of the ship, sealing the doors tightly before lifting them into the air to make their way to the filling station. It was not the largest ship that he had piloted in his days, but it was definitely more cumbersome than an Irken built vessel. But they would learn all of the eccentricities of the ship as they travelled.

 

Luckily, they only had to top off both fuel and water, truly the ship had been essentially ready to go, but with no particular destination in mind, he was not willing to leave the planet with anything less than completely full fuel wise. It did not take much longer for them to get through the queue of ships leaving the planet. Almost immediately Zim felt another enormous weight drop from his shoulders as they sped away from the tourist trap of a planet.

 

Certainly, it was useful for what they had needed, but the planet itself was one of his least favorite that he had ever been to. He set the ship to an even speed and turned toward his mate, “Now… what would you like to see, Dib-thing?”

 

As Zim guided the ship to the filling station, Dib settled the toy bat against the panel and leaned back comfortably in his seat. Truly, it was a complete one-eighty from their journey _to_ this planet. They weren’t cramped, the bulk of Dib’s ‘cleansing’ had been dealt with, and they seemed mostly settled with one another with their arguments put behind them.

 

“I’m not sure,” Dib shrugged, crossing his arms behind his head and leaning back into them, watching out the large front window as they flew away from the planet and leveled out their speed. He loved the look of space, and the large main window was _incredible_ compared to that of the tiny cruiser. Dib unfastened himself now that the cabin was stable and pressurized, standing and making his way over to the window. He placed a hand against the cool, thick glass. “What about Neibru?” he asked, unsure if Zim recalled even telling him about the planet. It felt like a lifetime ago that Zim first arrived in the parking lot, that they first made love, and Zim told him about this _incredible_ haunted planet.

 

It could definitely be fun. He didn’t turn to look at Zim, simply taking in the sight of space and the vastness of it all. He didn’t feel small or insignificant out here, not the way a lot of humans might. He felt revitalized and energetic, despite the sadness that crept around his insides and tugged on his heart. It was healing. He almost wished he’d found a guitar or something to strum while Zim piloted and sing love and adventure songs. He hadn’t sung in--God. Six years at least.

 

He hummed quietly, tracing his fingers along the glass, lost in thought. He blinked a couple times as he came back to himself, certain he’d heard Zim speak but wasn’t sure what it was. He turned, his expression somewhat bewildered. “What was that? Did you say something?”

 

Zim had, in fact, been talking at great length. When his mate turned to look at him, the puzzled look on his face Zim gave a soft chuckle, remembering this quite well. There were many times that he had been talking to Dib and the boy had completely tuned him out, though in hi Skool he would often go on to explain some asinine thing that he had been thinking of. Such as the hibernation habits of chupacabras or something equally bizarre. In this instance Zim was able to simply continue on.

 

“Zim was… essentially saying that it is a long flight from here. But we can charts a course that way,” the Irken pulled up a star map on his console and began scratching at his chin thoughtfully, “We will have to fly through a space that is governed by Irk. But I think we should be able to avoid actively occupied planets.”

 

“Great!” Dib chimed excitedly, making his way back over to the other seat and plopping down into it, kicking his boots up onto the console. “It’ll be interesting to see some of those planets along the way,” he said, knowing full-well he’d be actively asking Zim about what they were like before those planets were governed by Irk, also knowing full-well that Zim would probably be unable to answer the majority of his questions.

 

He ran his hands up through his hair, down to his face. His jaw was already feeling prickly, but he could still feel the outlining scars from Zim’s claws that first night when his fiancé jumped him. The tips of his fingers trailed the scars for a few moments before sliding down to the mark on his neck, mostly healed and scar-tissue now. He watched the star-map from his seat closely, although it wasn’t entirely visible from his angle.

 

The Irken gave a nod and began charting out their flight, doing his best to avoid any active military zones. He would prefer that Irk remained under the impression that he was dead for as long as possible. When he had a course set, he looked over it several times before setting their heading and, out of deeply seeded habits, stating out loud, “Engaging warp drives, warp speed six point five, heading two sixty-five mark zero-three-two.”

 

Zim used two fingers which he slid along the control panel to bring the warp core to life. The stars around them seemed to elongate around them, becoming brilliant lines of passing light through the window of their ship. Once the warp was fully engaged and Zim was able to determine that it was working properly he glanced over at the human and stated, “Neibru it is, then.”

 

Dib perked up the moment the phrase ‘engaging warp drives’ left Zim’s mouth, and he dropped his feet to the floor to sit up, staring wide-eyed out the window at the perspective switch.

 

 _“Holy shit,”_ he muttered, not sure why he expected this to be any different than he’d seen in movies. It wasn’t, and it made him feel as though he were on a completely different plane of existence. “That is _the coolest thing_ I have ever seen,” he continued, gripping the arms of his seat tightly as he watched the beams of starlight shoot past them.

 

It actually gave him a bit of a headache to stare at for too long, but he also couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the image in front of him. “How long will it take us to get there?” he asked, glancing quickly over at Zim before returning his gaze to the window. “And how many stops?” He felt as though he was finally able to live every science fiction fantasy he’d ever had. It was _awesome_.

 

Before answering the question Zim looked down at his chart to double check the timing of their course. He traced his finger along the path before replying confidently, “Two months, Earth time. But that is about forty-star days. While taking seven stops into account. We should only have to get more food once on the way, but we will need more fuel.”

 

At this point Zim pulled his legs up into the large seat, curling up comfortably as he continued, “We will be entering a sector occupied by Irk, so Zim chose planets that the Empire is no longer occupying.  And there are speed restrictions through three sectors on the way, we will have to drop to warp four. But the surrounding sectors are actively controlled by Irk, so I would rather deal with slower speeds than deal with Irken checkpoints. Seeing as Zim is dead and all.”

 

Dib nodded as he listened to Zim, making himself comfortable in his chair again with his feet up on the console before he spoke. “That’s quite a ways, then. But it will be really neat to see some other planets along the way. I want to take in as much as I can.”

 

He honestly didn’t mind that their trip to Neibru would take them quite some time and that they were going to travel at slower speeds through certain areas. He agreed that it would be for the best if Irken-controlled sectors didn’t know that Zim was alive. It was strange, both of them on the run and in hiding among the stars from their own people.

 

“We can honestly take our time, actually,” Dib added, turning back to Zim. He wanted his fiancé to know that he was in no rush. “I really just want to explore, take it slow, start learning a bunch of new things. And actually, now that we’re on the subject of learning things--” he trailed off again, letting a grin cross his lips. “Languages. I’m _okay_ with Irken, but I feel like I should be able to speak it fluently. I know English and Spanish. Are there other languages that would be important to know? Your PAK translates for you, and my glasses when it’s written. But otherwise I don’t have a translator.”

 

Zim furrowed his brow at the inquiry and ducked down under his control panel to pull out the bright blue visor he had purchased for Dib. He tossed his own visor down and slipped the blue one over his eyes, fidgeting with the controls as he replied, “There are several languages which are useful. Vortian is rather common, mostly because they export goods all over the universe, so most people are at least familiar. Nhar-Gh'ok, Plooskiean, Vulcan, Romulan, probably Ferengi. All of those are useful…”

 

The Irken slipped the visor off and handed it to his mate as he finished, “I synced some language tutorials with that computer interface. You can have that for practice as well as I am more than willing to help you practice with any languages that I do know. It was never my forte. Zim had to use his translator almost exclusively for the first four years I was on Earth.”

 

Dib took the visor from Zim, slipping it on and cycling through some of the languages. He supposed it made sense that Zim wasn’t excellent at _everything_ he did--the thought of which gave him a bit of a chuckle. Really, they did have their own strengths as weaknesses in a way that balanced the two of them together very well. Not that language itself was a detriment to Zim, considering his translator.

 

After a few minutes of fiddling with the visor, he removed it and held it in his lap. “Thanks,” he started, immediately wondering if there was anything in this vast expanse of the universe that _he_ would be able to teach _Zim._ Somehow he doubted it--all of his knowledge was based in human cryptozoology, but then again, he did so well in their senior year that his S.T.E.M. Fair project not only got him first place regionally, but also scored his full-ride to university where he fully-intended to be a biochem major.

 

Before he dropped out and sent his life spiraling pathetically down the drain.

 

Dib rolled his eyes at the thought, setting the visor off to the side for now. Languages _had_ been a bit of a strong suit for him, though any languages he’d started learning in school had begun to fade now. It’d be fun to learn a bunch of new ones, speak fluently with other races and learn as much as he could about their cultures.

 

“I didn’t know that about the translator,” he said finally, grinning back over at Zim. They were still mortal enemies at that point. “I think if I’d known you didn’t actually _know_ English for that long, I’d have teased you relentlessly for it like an asshole.”

 

Zim returned the smile and rolled his eyes as he replied, “I am certain that you would have. But at that point Zim did not share much about himself with the Dib-thing. Especially not my faults.”

 

The Irken turned to look forward through the window, taking in the sight of the stars whisking past them. He had missed space so much. Even long before he had been captured, he had longed to no longer be planet bound. He felt more at home now than he had at any of his commands and stations throughout the years, especially now that he had the human once again at his side and quite nearly acting like himself.

 

Zim chuckled once, imagining how rough his time on Earth would have been with Dib not only thwarting even his best laid plans and exposing him as an idiot on a daily basis, but also teasing him for being unable to grasp Earth's languages in the process. He glanced back at the human and mused, “You never found a shortage of things to be an asshole about. I think I made it fairly easy to find those reasons.”

 

Dib winced at Zim’s comment, but he still had a grin in his features. “Well, I gave you tons of reasons to be an asshole right back,” he said glancing over at his mate and giving him a wink. In their childhood, they really had teased and annoyed each other relentlessly, and that was ignoring all of their actual, physical fights. For the first few years, their fights were mostly childish tousles with insane levels of engineering involved. His mind flashed back to the first year of Zim on Earth and NanoZim, flying around inside his body and taking control of his limbs.

 

The thought still gave him the heebie jeebies--even back then Zim had known him far more intimately than he’d ever imagined being known by someone. Dib pulled a face, sticking his tongue out. Thankfully, it had only happened the once and any other plans the Irken had for something similar were immediately thwarted.

 

“I have to say, though, I’m glad that we’re on the same team now,” he said, reaching out to bridge the gap between the two of them and taking Zim’s hand in his own. He knew that he was a sap, always twisting the conversation into something sweet and sentimental, but now that they were together and had at least some semblance of safety, he didn’t want to take it for granted.

 

They were partners, and like Zim had said and confirmed this morning, they’d work through everything together. Cope together. Grow together. “I love you.”

 

Zim was still curled up in his chair but had extended his hand for Dib to take. The human's hands were so much larger than his own that Dib could have completely covered his hand with his fingers if he had wanted to. Instead the Irken was able to lace his fingers between Dib's, giving the digits a gentle squeeze.

 

He stayed that way for just a moment before pushing himself out of the captain's chair and instead slipping into Dib's lap, resting his head against the human's shoulder as he replied with a soft smile, “Zim loves you too, Stink.”

 

Dib’s grin widened when Zim made his way into his lap. He wrapped his arms around the Irken’s small frame, tugging him close and resting his cheek on top of his head. He held their position for some time in silence, letting himself relax into the feeling of Zim’s breathing and the pressure of having him in his lap.

 

Humming softly, and still not speaking, after a few minutes of simply holding Zim he adjusted slightly, pulling back just enough to turn and place a soft kiss to his temple, trailing down until he met Zim’s mouth. There were few things Dib enjoyed as much as just kissing him and feeling him close.

 

After this morning, his shower, the change in his look, and finally getting away from that horrible planet, overall Dib was feeling much more at ease, and he missed the simple closeness between them. The quiet and gentle moments spent in each other’s arms, like how they used to stargaze in high school. Instead, the stars were whizzing past them at warp-speed. Their scenery may have changed, but that feeling between them hadn’t. It was moments like these where it _almost_ felt like they hadn’t been separated at all, like their relationship was following its natural progression once again.

 

And now they were engaged. Dib kissed Zim again, a little more passionately this time, sliding his hands along Zim’s frame and along the lines of his jumpsuit, up to the revealed areas of skin, humming into Zim’s mouth at the softness of him, even where scars still marred his flesh.

 

Zim offered no resistance as Dib adjusted his position to kiss him, the tender and gentle action quickly building in vigor. The Irken would have normally at this point pushed Dib away in his own experiences. But he knew that the human had at this point already surpassed this kind of heated exchange with him, at least in those other timelines which Zim was only able to recall snippets of from the nightmare he experienced before his rescue. Zim had not been gifted the memory of those experiences, only that of attacking Dib, government men closing in on them as they fled the Membrane house, their deaths.

 

It seemed almost cruel that fate had deemed it necessary that he could not recall the tender moments between them. Dib had told him of their talks, his knowledge of what had happened to Zim, and of the consummation of their relationship. While it had made it so that it was unnecessary for Zim to have to actually speak to any of his own trauma, it also meant that he was missing what had been deep and profoundly bonding moments between them.

 

The Irken lifted his hand, cupping the human's jaw as he kissed him back. He subtly shifted his position on the human's lap to allow him to slide his hand to the back of Dib's neck, pulling him closer to meet the exchange with his own passion and exuberance.

 

Dib, of course, had realized early on that Zim wouldn't remember many of their more intimate moments since his initial return. By the second round, he'd discovered this, and although he was saddened by the fact that his love didn't remember being intimate with him, it still excited him that again, Dib would be his first.

 

He also couldn't help but moan quietly into Zim's mouth and the feeling of the Irken's hands on him, the sensations bringing an all too familiar feeling heat to start building in the pit of his stomach.

 

Not parting from Zim, he adjusted himself again, lifting him into the air. As fun as this was, making out in the bridge, he was certain they'd both prefer the bed. Carrying Zim around had always been an easy feat for Dib and had quickly become something he rather enjoyed. Decided, he took Zim into the bedroom, parting just to glance around and make sure that GIR hadn't made his way back in.

 

He gently laid Zim on the bed and climbed in next to him, moving to place sweet kisses along his neck and jaw, using his teeth only to graze them gently, not to bite. He knew Zim had bits and pieces, and he'd told Zim a little about it, but to confirm, Dib asked him, “So, is there anything you _do_ remember?” He couldn't recall if Zim remembered the sensations, but he fully intended to give his love every ounce of passion and tenderness he could muster to make up for the struggles they had faced during their escape and initial journey.

 

Zim chittered softly when Dib picked him up and carried him off of the bridge of the ship, realizing quickly where their destination would be. The bedchamber was only dimly lit but it was enough that the Irken's eyes adjusted quickly and he was able to make out his mate quite well in the half light.

 

He turned his head to the side to give the human greater access to his neck where he was planting a series of tender kisses. At the question Zim shook his head softly and replied, “I do not remember. I am sorry, Stink.”

 

“Don't apologize,” Dib murmured into Zim's skin, trailing down to a revealed collarbone, which he gave particular attention to, one arm trailing down to Zim's hip and toying at the fabric of his jumpsuit. “You'll remember this time. And I promise, I'll make it _well_ worth remembering.”

 

Dib pulled back, then, looking up at Zim with a warm expression. There was nothing in the universe he loved as much as the person beside him right now, and he wanted to show Zim that. Keeping all of his movements slow and purposeful, Dib first tugged the overshirt off before making his way down, carefully unzipping and removing Zim's boots, settling them down on the floor, before he removed his own (quite more unceremoniously than Zim's).

 

That done, Dib slid up next to his fiancé once more, returning to his collarbone and easing his mouth down into the dip of his throat, humming softly.

 

The promise that fell from his mate's lips made the Irken chitter once again, this time with both excitement and anticipation. He had thought about this moment many times over the years, though the setting in his mind had always been strikingly different than now. Then again, in their bedroom on a ship that they owned- their home, seemed far more romantic an option than in a filthy tweaker pad masquerading as a domicile. So perhaps it was for the best that this was his first recollection of this experience.  

 

Zim purred softly, watching Dib strip him of his boots delicately and with purpose before practically tossing his own across the floor. That had made the Irken grin softly, finding the barely contained enthusiasm rather endearing. He settled back into the sheets when Dib's mouth was on him once again. He shifted his position to allow him to rest his knee along Dib's hip and bring one of his hands up to run through his mate’s devil-may-care hair.

 

Every time Zim touched him, even simple movements such as his knee resting against him and hands in hair, it sent shivers down his spine. He certainly was having a hard time containing his excitement, but he wanted to take this slowly, give Zim everything that he'd been missing and everything that he didn't remember. He wanted to make love all night in their bed, feeling and kissing every inch of Zim to show the Irken how much he, and their partnership, meant to him.

 

As much as Dib enjoyed the feeling of Zim's knee on his hip, it was time to start removing the rest of their clothing. Gently, he spread Zim's legs, trying not to make him feel too revealed too fast, kneeling between them as he grasped the zipper on his front and began tugging it down, perhaps more slowly than necessary, all the way down. He didn't begin removing the garment, however, settling back on his knees a bit to tug off his own shirt first, dropping it off the edge of the bed.

 

The human found himself immediately nervous. Zim didn't remember anything, and thus would remember very little about his changed figure and the fact that he'd become even more self-conscious about his body than when he was young. He tugged his lip between his teeth, immediately dipping down to kiss from Zim's throat down his chest and to his belly, trying to hide any visual cues of his nervousness, although he knew by now his fiancé would be able to smell his shift in hormones. Still, Dib knew if he thought about it too much, he'd only turn himself off and ruin it for the both of them. This needed to be special.

 

Instead, he focused all of his attention on Zim, show him that he was the most and only important thing in the universe, which was his plan from the beginning, anyway.  He slid his hands up, sliding the garment off Zim's shoulders and tugging the jumpsuit gently down to just below the line of his hips, following with his mouth to slide his tongue along the dip of the alien’s right hip bone. “You're so beautiful,” he muttered, raising his eyes to meet Zim's.

 

His glasses had immediately adjusted for the low lighting once they'd entered the room, but they didn't alter colour at all. He could see with brilliant clarity the sparkle of Zim's eyes and the way the pinkish red hues picked up any light they found. Bubblegum freckles dotting his skin, even the scars--it all just made him more stunning to the human. “ _Fuck_ , you're beautiful,” he repeated, moving up again to tug Zim into a deep, heated kiss, slipping his tongue into Zim's mouth to taste him. All of him was sweet, like candy: the very same sugared fruits they'd had with their dessert last night, and something vaguely reminiscent of cinnamon.

 

Zim's cheeks had begun to flush vibrantly pink as the human began to painstakingly peel the skin-tight jumpsuit off of him. The colour deepened even further at Dib's words, truly the Irken did not feel beautiful. Not in the ways that he used to. Before his experiences in those final years on Earth Zim was able to look at his body and see the appeal. Curves that accentuated his lithe frame, brilliant emerald skin, even the little freckles that had formed on his cheeks and down along his arms and shoulders, he could note at a glance that he was attractive.  

 

Now, he was scarred, discolored, borderline emaciated. His body was a roadmap of the horror show that his life had become. He couldn't see anything to be attracted to but supposed that what was important was that _Dib did._ However, he was thankful for the kiss that he returned enthusiastically, which gave him a valid excuse to not have to vocalize a response to the compliment. Instead he purred into the kiss, letting his hands roam the human's back scratching at him with feather light pressure from his claws.

 

Dib couldn't help but to arch his back at the feeling of Zim's claws against him, especially in a rare show of gentleness. While he would definitely not complain had Zim dug deeper or drew blood if he'd desired, he was grateful to keep this interaction soft and romantic.

 

As they kissed, Dib continued to trail his hands along Zim's body. While he saw the change in his figure from the beginning and was both enraged and saddened by what Zim had gone through, he still saw him as nothing but perfect. Dib was sure they'd both be happier once they started taking proper care of themselves and became comfortable in their bodies once again.

 

Dib pulled back from Zim, looking down at him sweetly, his hair sufficiently tousled and falling into his eyes, his cheeks flushed as he caught his breath. “I want to show you something,” he said, knowing that Zim hadn't had the chance to fully explore his tattoos this time around. “I got something for you, just after you le--disappeared.”

 

Catching the slip up, Dib pulled back fully and turned, just enough so Zim could see the symbol resting between his shoulder blades and up the nape of his neck. It was the first one he'd gotten, back before he let himself descend into chaos. It was also his favourite, followed closely by Nessie, who he had on prime display down his forearm. The defective symbol, however, had been a far more personal mark, hidden just for himself--and for Zim.

 

Zim's antennae perked curiously as Dib pulled back from him, turning to show him the black ink between his shoulder blades. He recognized it immediately, one of the many symbols that defined his people. The general shape of the Irken race, the black orb in the center which symbolized an Invader split through with a lightning bolt. The symbol of a defect.

 

It was, by all means the symbol that should have been associated with him. The Tallests had tried to brand him as such, and truly he was. If not for the vast number of his errors rendering the Control Brains useless, this was what would appear in his files, right alongside deceased, if there were records at all.

 

He would appear as an Invader, _Invader Zim_ in the archives of Irken history, they would be unable to erase him entirely because of that station. Only defects could be gotten rid of entirely. Though, he was sure that the records were clearly laid out that he was an abomination.

 

He propped himself up on one elbow, reaching out to graze the lightning with the tips of his fingers. The Irken let out a soft sigh, shifting his hand to cover the defective bolt with his thumb, giving the illusion of the Invader insignia. But that was all that being an Invader ever was for him, an illusion.  One that he had fully bought into and strived with everything he had to earn.

 

He sat up the rest of the way and turned Dib back towards him, pressing forward to kiss the human's lips gently. As he pulled back, he mused softly, “I guess that means Zim was always with you. At least a little bit.”

 

Dib let Zim take his time, trailing the insignia on his back with gentle strokes, settling goosebumps along his skin. He let Zim turn him back around, kissing him back and whining softly when he pulled away, but smiling at his words. There was an air of sadness in the room--not what Dib had intended at all, but he figured he could that he could work with that, if not ease the feeling.

 

“You've always been a part of me,” he said, his voice quiet as he laid Zim back down, climbing gingerly over him and again working his mouth down slowly and sweetly along all of Zim's curves, each dip and rise. “You never left me,” he added, hooking his fingers into the fabric of the jumpsuit around Zim's hips, easing himself and the article of clothing down until he'd removed it completely, setting the fabric onto the floor as he straightened back up between Zim's legs.

 

Truly, despite everything the Irken was a sight to behold. Dib released a shuddering breath, leaning forward, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of Zim's left knee, intending to work up his inner thigh--however, he kept his eyes on Zim, not wanting to make his fiancé uncomfortable or feel too revealed beneath his gaze. “Is this okay?” he asked, still quite quiet.

 

Zim flushed even further when Dib laid him back into the sheets. Not only was he nervous because of the general unfamiliarity of this experience, but also because of his self-consciousness with his body, and now from the firm and tangible reminder of his failure as an Irken. But he knew that his mate had meant for the ink on his skin to be a sentimental reminder of him. At the time that Dib had gotten it, he had no way to guess how close to home the symbol would hit.

 

He closed his eyes, willing his body to relax as his suit was completely removed, exposing him in all of his glory, or lack thereof for the human to see, and to take however he wanted.

 

The Irken opened his eyes at the sound of Dib's voice, purring softly down at him and flashing him an encouraging smile, “Yes. It is okay, Dib.”

 

Dib had no way of knowing Zim's current inner turmoil, and unfortunately also didn't have the same heightened senses to discern a shift in mood. The human simply boiled his fiancé's shift in demeanor down to nervousness, opting to start checking in along the way to ensure he wasn't making Zim uncomfortable. Just as with earlier, vocal consent would be important here, but for entirely different reasons.

 

Nodding, Dib hummed and continued to trail his lips and tongue sweetly up Zim's thigh, his hand mirroring those movements on his other leg. “You're the only thing that matters to me,” Dib cooed into one of Zim's more vicious scars, bristling under his skin at the idea that his father had been this close to his mate. He couldn't stop the low growl that escaped his chest at the idea of his father seeing Zim this revealed, couldn't help but wonder exactly what this man had done. Zim didn't give any specifics.

 

However, Dib didn't broach the topic--not now. He didn't want to ruin the mood, and now more than ever he was feeling protective, aroused, even possessive. But he had already decided to keep their lovemaking as gentle and caring as he could muster, and he was determined to stick to that.

 

Pulling back from Zim's upper thigh, he locked eyes once again with Zim. “I love you,” he muttered, trailing back up. “What would be better for you, me on top, or you?” he asked, keeping himself close to Zim and handling him with care. He knew Zim often appreciated the body heat he gave off and hoped that this closeness was comforting.

 

It was true that Zim had not told Dib the whole of what had happened to him in the depths of his father's lab. Zim had purposely avoided talking about it in too much detail and intended on never disclosing much of it. Though, in this moment, in this position - he was grateful that Dib had chosen to cut his hair.

 

This was certainly a far more pleasant experience, even with the lingering sadness he felt. At the question Zim flushed even deeper, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he responded to the question with one of his own, “How has Dib already had Zim?”

 

Dib flushed at the question, hiding the colour in his cheeks by kissing one of Zim’s, leaning down to give a saucy nip to his jaw. “Uh--cowgirl, if that means anything to you. You were on top, and I was--I was taking you,” he muttered, continuing his little nips and trailing his fingers along Zim’s hip.

 

The Irken felt so small beneath him, which wasn’t a bad feeling. In fact, it made him feel a little powerful in ways that he didn’t often get to experience, or at least allow himself to. “But you were kind of… running the show,” he laughed softly, pulling away from Zim to stand, slowly unbuttoning his jeans, cocking his head to the side. He didn’t go any further--perhaps Zim would like to take a turn removing something. Either way, the jeans needed to go, and he figured that he should at least try to get over some of his body issues. Let Zim really see him, be open and revealed as he had been. Give his fiancé the chance to paw at him the way he had done, before focusing the rest of his attention solely on Zim.

 

“I was thinking maybe I could be on top,” he added, trying to be discreet about his self-consciousness.

 

Zim's smile widened a bit, rather unsurprised to hear that he had been ‘running the show’ in both of the previous encounters that his mate had. As Dib stood to unfasten his pants Zim shifted onto his knees and reaching out, tugging on the waistband of his mate's remaining clothing to pull him closer.

 

He leaned forward, pressing his lips against Dib's pelvic bone as he found the zipper and tugged it down.  The Irken shifted his hands to the boy's hips, kissing just below his navel. As he slipped the human's trousers off of him, letting them fall to the floor Zim looked up the length of him to meet Dib's eyes to assure him, unaware that this was not the first time he had stated these words, “Dib can touch Zim however he wants.”

 

Dib kicked his discarded pants out of the way, only offering Zim a nod in response to his comment, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He remembered the phrase all too well. Carefully, Dib reached forward and gently grasped one of the velvety antennae, dragging just the tips of his fingers from base to tip. It was hardly a touch at all, but he was sure that the sensation was still intense for the alien. He knew at this point how sensitive they were, but as far as Zim remembered, he'd never touched them. It'd be new for the Irken.

 

He continued this motion, up and down the appendage with almost ghostly strokes, gauging Zim's reaction before going any further. He continued to stand, far too aware of how aroused he was, especially knowing what sort of responses awaited him: blissful chitters and purrs and nearly-pathetic mewling. Those sounds, and the way Zim practically melted under his fingertips, had Dib panting. He couldn't take his eyes away; the way Zim squirmed beneath his touch, so out of control of himself, was _just_ as sexy as being controlled by him.

 

“God, Zim,” he muttered, finally managing to vocalize, unsure if Zim could even hear him.

 

Zim did not disappoint with his reaction to the boy toying with his antennae, almost immediately any articulate speech he might have been able to muster fell away to be replaced with soft chittering. The Irken gripped Dib's hips more firmly, using the human to keep himself upright as the sensation flooded him from head to toe.

 

His head lolled back, his heavily lidded eyes lightening to an amaranth hue as he submitted to Dib's touch. The feeling coursing through him was almost more than he could stand and yet the last thing that he wanted was for his mate to stop what he was doing. He wanted more of Dib, to be touched and taken, claimed by the human in every way. Not that he was able to communicate any of that effectively, his plea merely coming out as a pathetic series of soft chirps.

 

Dib exhaled slowly as he watched Zim squirm, placing one of his hands atop Zim's on his hip, giving his hand a few moving strokes before he rose that one up, too, joining his other and caressing both antennae, a little more firmly. By now he had a pretty good idea of what Zim was able to take.

 

When Dib was happy with the state of mewling mess, he had turned Zim into, he leaned down, dragging his tongue along the top of one of the antennae from base to tip, moaning hot breath onto them, moving excruciatingly slowly. The feeling of it under his tongue was odd, like licking the wrong way along a velvet sheet of fabric, and sweet but almost tasteless, like sugar water or simple syrup.

 

The Irken froze, gritting his teeth as Dib's tongue made contact with his antenna, the sensation running through him like a static shock. As the motion was completed Zim dropped his head forward, letting his forehead thump softly against the human's stomach while his toes curled into the sheets.

 

The sensation was one unlike any that he had ever experienced. Of course, he knew that the antennae were sensitive, having had them yanked on harshly on multiple occasions along with his near constant endeavor to keep Dib's hands off of them in hi Skool. But they had never been touched like this before, he had never allowed it. And it was amazing.

 

Zim pushed forward a bit more, rubbing first his forehead and then his cheek against the human's abdomen as he purred softly between panting breaths.

 

Dib couldn't help but grin a little as Zim leaned against him, then started rubbing up on him. Truly the alien was almost like a cat in heat at this point. Growling into the soft appendage, Dib finished trailing his way up, tugging one of the ends into his mouth gently between his teeth, being extremely careful not to bite down, but sucking on it, giving firm pressure with his mouth and tongue on one of the antenna, his other hand stroking steadily up and down a few times, much more softly, still with just the tips of callused fingers.

 

The human continued his motions for some time, working the Irken up as much as he could, but eventually Dib realized that if he kept going, the sight and sound of Zim chittering and purring and rubbing against him would end their night far too soon. Dib pulled back slowly, not wanting to shock Zim too much with sudden loss of contact, and pushed him slowly back into the bed, climbing on top of him and kissing him passionately.

 

“You have _no_ idea how crazy that makes me, babe,” he murmured as he pulled back, fire in his eyes and the pit of his stomach. This time, he wanted to take what was _his_ , show Zim he was worth every ounce of pleasure he received, all he could ask for and more.

 

When Dib had taken the end of his antenna between his lips, stroking the other with rhythmic and delicate strokes the Irken mewled pathetically, unable to truly do anything else. His own member had swollen, dropping from the confines of his body somewhere in the process, but the sensations were all so intense that he could not have pinpointed exactly when.

 

He whined at the sudden lack of sensation when Dib finally stopped his teasing but did not resist being repositioned. He was barely given time to catch his breath before the kiss which he returned more enthusiastically than any he could remember to date, clinging desperately to the human as much as his now shaking arms could manage.

 

Dib moved back a little further, now, taking in Zim's form beneath him, sliding his hands down Zim's chest, along his sides, and down past his hips. From here, he positioned himself exactly where he wanted to be, on his knees between Zim's legs, spread and ready for him. He trailed his fingers softly from knees to thighs, licking his lips more hungrily than he'd intended.

 

“Is this still okay?” He asked finally, voice deep and husky. “Are you ready?” he asked, keeping his touches gentle.

 

Zim watched the boy with anticipation, chittering softly at the feeling of Dib's hands on his body. The Irken had become so worked up, his hormones filling him so strongly that he had completely forgotten that he had started out this endeavor as self-conscious as he had been. Now, all that really mattered in his mind was that his mate did not stop touching him.

 

At the question he gave a nod, unable to answer vocally. He wore a grin on his face that made it quite clear that he was under no kind of duress in this situation and in fact arched his back to press against the human suggestively.

 

Dib gave Zim a single nod in return, reaching between them to grasp himself, guiding to Zim's entrance. He was thankful for Zim's natural lubricants, and the fact that Zim had _technically_ done this before, so as to avoid hurting him.

 

Slowly, Dib pushed himself inside, moving his hands to Zim's outer thighs to steady himself, a shiver running clear down his spine, head tilting back and groaning deeply. He would _never_ tire of that feeling, how tight, warm, and slick Zim was. “Fuck-- _God_ , Zim,” he moaned again, chest rumbling a possessive growl.

 

More than anything now, the human wanted to take Zim hard and fast, but he'd promised himself he'd be slow and gentle. Releasing a shuddering breath, Dib slowly pulled back out almost completely, repeating his motion and, just as slowly, taking him again.

 

Dib grasped Zim's thighs a little more firmly, tugging Zim by the hips to pull him closer, falling into a steady and careful rhythm with Zim's legs around his him, sprawled on his back in front of him--Dib looked the Irken up and down, unable to articulate the words or the feeling. He was more aroused now than he'd ever remembered being.

 

After a few minutes of his steady rhythm, listening to Zim chitter and moan beneath him, arching into his touches, Dib pulled back again, just to take him a little rougher, but as deep as Zim's body would allow now that he'd been warmed up.

 

Zim’s purring quickly dissolved into breathless panting and moans as Dib pushed inside him, it hurt at first, just a bit. But the pain was quite minimal in comparison to what he had grown accustomed to enduring on a daily basis for the last few years and within just a few gentle thrusts from Dib's hips any pain he was feeling shifted instead to a feeling of fullness that left the Irken mewling at the human's touch.

 

He gripped the boy's shoulders tightly, moving his hips to match the rhythm that his mate had set. The sudden shift in tempo caught him by surprise, bringing a pleased yelp spilling from his lips and causing his claws to dig deeper into Dib's shoulders. Zim’s back arched delicately pressing his lithe frame against the human as he managed to call out his name and a pathetic plea of, “ _Harder_.”

 

Zim’s requests were all Dib needed to hear. Vocal confirmation asking for more. Dib growled, taking Zim’s left leg, lifting it from his hip to over his shoulder, pushing toward his chest. He was thankful for how flexible Zim was; his small and delicate frame made for easy manhandling, and with this position he knew he could go deeper and harder like he wanted.

 

Dib’s other hand took Zim’s in his own, removing just one from digging into his shoulders and interlacing their fingers to hold it tightly, but raising it above Zim’s head, looking down at the Irken beneath him as he continued to thrust steadily into him, rougher now. Dib growled, watching Zim’s expression and feeling the way he moved back against him, arching his back and pleading.

 

The human wanted to speak, say something, give some sort of affirmation or loving compliment, but he couldn’t seem to find any words, wasn’t able to articulate any actual speech, just pants and throaty rumbles. He hummed deeply to himself, knowing that if he continued at this pace and rhythm, he’d bring them both quickly to completion. He wasn’t quite ready to be done yet--he wanted Zim all night long, over and over again, watching him moan and purr and mewl and beg.

 

Instead, Dib halted his rhythm, pulling out again to thrust hard and deep, pausing before he repeated the motion, harder each time. He loved the feeling of Zim’s claws digging into his shoulder and into the back of his hand. He didn’t leave marks on Zim--he’d gotten a few nasty smacks for giving him hickeys back in school. He knew Zim didn’t like to be tainted and wasn’t a fan of pain like Dib was--so instead, he fucked Zim hard and thoroughly, letting the Irken do the scratching.

 

Finally, however, Dib found his voice as he found his rhythm: taking him hard, filling him, pulling back until he was empty and desperate before taking him harder. Rinse and repeat.

 

Not usually one to make commands, Dib’s voice was deep and heavy as he ordered, _“Bite me.”_

 

Zim moaned loudly when Dib adjusted his body, pressing the Irken's knee practically against his own chest and thrust into him with reckless abandon. His heart fluttered briefly when his hand was pinned above his head, but he sought out his fiancé’s face, the familiar sight of the human comforting him, making him feel safe, protected, possessed.  

 

This was what he had in mind when he said that he wanted Dib to claim him. This dominating and almost animalistic passion. The feeling of his mate so deep within him, filling in to what felt to be his very limits, driving into him with such force, was excruciating in the most intoxicating and breathtaking ways.

 

The human changed his pace again, his thrusts increasingly rough, teasing in their thoroughly dominating way. Each motion left the Irken aching, mewling pleadingly at his mate, gasping and moaning when the boy would take him again.

 

At the request, the demand Zim felt a shiver run the length of his spine. The tone was commanding, assured and incredibly alluring. The Irken did not have to be told twice. He pushed forward, bridging the small gap of space between them and sunk his teeth firmly into the boy's neck, directly onto a scar that he knew that he had caused in another life.

 

Dib let out a deep growl, followed by a moan, at the bite to his throat. He felt in these moments as if he lived to be marked by his mate, claimed by him even if he were the one taking Zim. No matter what, he knew he belonged to the Irken in the most literal way, more than willing to be his pet, even if he spent every evening from here on out taking Zim like this in bed.

 

The human knew who belonged to who, even if he currently felt possessive and dominating. He continued his hard and deep thrusts, moaning loudly to encourage Zim’s scratching and biting. He knew what he had intended from this encounter; however, he also knew that were they to reach completion, he’d be more than willing to kiss Zim softly and touch him sweetly for the rest of the night until the next round, where more than likely Zim would be the one to take _him_.

 

He wasn’t ready for that--at least, not just yet. He wasn’t sure on how many occasions he’d be able to do this: to take Zim deeply in whatever manner he saw fit, controlling speed and rhythm and mood. On both of their previous sessions of lovemaking, Zim had been the one in control, at least for the most part. He didn’t mind, of course, even enjoyed submitting himself to Zim’s will in whatever way the alien wanted. Fuck--Dib would do more than Zim could ever even imagine, that much he knew to be true.

 

However, he loved this almost as much, gripping Zim’s thigh and hand, fucking him hard, letting all of his base animal instincts take over. It was more than he could ask for, especially now, after all they had been through.

 

Zim's fingers dug deeply into Dib's shoulder as the human thrust with even more vigor, spurred by the Irken's teeth in his neck. He didn't know how much longer he would be able to hold out, the pressures inside him already threatening to push him over the edge with each motion of his lover's hips.

 

He tried to maintain the tension in his jaw as long as he could manage but after just a few moments he could not help but to throw his head back into the pillows, mewling at every touch.

 

While Zim lived control, loved the feeling of power, there was another part of him, a part that had been genetically bred into him that was impossible to ignore. At his core the Irken was created not only to dominate, but also to serve. To be made useful to those who commanded him. More than anything in this moment with Dib taking him, using him, claiming him, it made him feel as though he was finally serving his purpose, finally useful and needed.

 

Dib gasped when Zim's teeth were removed from his throat, blood flowing pretty freely between the two of them. Just like earlier, the sight of it and the pain of Zim's bite only served to revitalize him.

 

He continued his motions, now releasing Zim's hand and detangling it from the Irken's claws, reaching up to grasp one of Zim's antenna instead, stroking it between his fingers. He was trying desperately not to be too rough with the sensitive appendage while he _was_ rough everywhere else. However, he did want to give Zim every ounce of pleasure he could, push him to his limits, give his mate everything he could. Perhaps sensory overload--consciously or unconsciously one could never tell.

 

Growling, Dib dug the fingers of his other hand a little harder, pushing Zim's leg closer to his chest, thrusting hard and deep, blood spilling from his shoulder and his throat and from small puncture marks on the back of his other hand.

 

The additional sensation of Dib's fingers on his antennae while he fucked him with such vigorous force was definitely more than Zim had been prepared for. The feeling of the human stroking his antennae on its own was enough to leave him completely undone, this was torture of the very best kind.

 

His body stiffened as he clung to his mate, barely able to even moan through the pleasure of it. A few well aimed thrusts with the static like bliss caused by the human's delicate fingers were enough to throw him into an intense climax, spilling translucent pink cum onto his stomach and digging his claws all the harder into his fiancé’s skin.

 

Dib's groan was deep and guttural as he felt Zim climax, his lithe, delicate body tensing and shuddering beneath him and claws digging into him in the best way, shocks of pain coursing through his system that only fueled his animalistic desire.

 

Although he had brought Zim to completion through his touches and hard fucking, the human wasn't done with him yet. He still couldn't speak, but he was growling, holding Zim hard and firm as he continued thrusting, continued stroking the antenna, leaning down now to take it between his lips, dragging his tongue along it. He was getting close to orgasm, himself, fire flooding his insides.

 

He just needed _more_ , wanted to _take more._

 

The Irken's body became hypersensitive in the wake of his climax, every nerve ending seemed to be pulsing with electricity, every touch from his mate coursing through him, shaking him to his very core. It was the most intense sensation he had ever experienced, his mind had practically shut off, unable to process anything beyond his most primal senses.

 

Dib wanted more and Zim wanted him to take it, wanted to give the human all of himself. He belonged to the boy just as much as Dib belonged to him. Every touch, every movement served to claim him, body and mind. Cleanse him of the horrors he had gone through that tainted this act and himself.

 

He gripped his fiancé as tightly as he could with his weakened arms, mewling up at him, chittering and moaning with abandon as he rolled his hips upward to meet each of the now almost feverish thrusts.

 

As Dib picked up his pace, taking Zim desperately, his orgasm crept up quickly. He couldn't form a clear thought in his mind except that he needed everything Zim was willing to give to him, take every inch of the Irken's body, become one with him in this moment.

 

Dib finally tore his eyes away from Zim, couldn't keep them open as he climaxed, tensing into the sensation and moaning in euphoria. He could swear this feeling, being with Zim in this way and sharing in this pleasure, was better than any high he'd experienced. He pulled his mouth and hand from Zim's antenna, worried he'd hurt it in the throes of his orgasm, and slowly pulled out of his fiancé, panting heavily.

 

Carefully, the human slipped off of Zim and immediately pulled him into a tender, firm hug, holding him tightly as he came down.

 

Just when the Irlen thought that he could not possibly take any more his mate tensed against him, spilling inside him. When Dib's frantic movements finally stopped, his hands and mouth no longer stroking his antennae, Zim was breathless, panting raggedy as he tried to steady himself from the rush of his own orgasm. He offered no resistance as he was pulled closer to the human, letting his head rest against his lover's chest as he pawed at the boy with the gentle kneading of claws.

 

He was finally able to steady his breath enough to settle into a soft and rumbling purr as he clung loosely to his mate, his eyes barely managing to stay open.

 

After a few moments of simply holding Zim tightly to his chest, his fiancé's kneading helped to relax him. He still couldn't speak for some time, catching his breath and letting his mind come back to reality.

 

Dib let his fingers trace small circles and gentle strokes along Zim's lower back, loosening his tight hold on his lover, finally opening his eyes to gaze sleepily and sweetly down at the alien in his arms. There was nowhere else he'd rather be in the universe, except here with Zim.

 

He was, however, a little uncomfortable--he was _hot_ , and sweating from their activity. Not only that but they were now sticky with human and Irken cum and his blood, which had now begun to clot and stop dripping from his wounds. At the same time, however, the idea of separating from Zim was the last thing he wanted to think about.

 

“You're amazing,” he murmured, opting for gentle words than trying to move again or get up to clean the two of them up. They'd definitely have to wash the sheets.

 

Washing the sheets was not something that had even begun to cross the Irken's mind. His brain was still working sluggishly, barely processing anything beyond touch. He grinned against the human's chest as his lover muttered those softly spoken words down at him, replying with a breathless but self-assured, “I know.”

 

The Irken lifted his hand, gently running his fingers through the boy's hair, still purring contentedly against him. Truly, it had been an amazing experience, everything about it left the Irken feeling more at peace than he had been in years. This was the life that he had been meant for, he and Dib adventuring through the stars, laying sleepily together in a tangle of limbs and sheets. He had quite nearly lost all of this, in fact he thought that he had.

 

But everything he had been through, all of the pieces of himself that he had lost, it all seemed a fair trade to finally have the boy in his arms.

 

Zim chuckled softly, adjusting his position enough to allow him to press a gentle kiss against Dib's neck as he cooed back softly, “You are amazing too, Stink.”

 

Dib felt just as at ease as Zim did--this may not have been the life he imagined that day six years ago, when they graduated, and he had intended on asking Zim to marry him. He pictured a little apartment on some hidden corner in the city working and going to school. But this?

 

This was better. This was much more _them_ , and he should have known that back in school, too. Travelling space, exploring the universe, spending their evenings making love and in each other's arms.

 

He continued to stroke Zim's skin gently, absently wishing they at least had a fan to help cool him down. He wanted to drift off to sleep, but at the same time, he wanted to stay up and, in this moment, forever. “Was that--was that okay for you?” he asked, realizing that he had stopped checking in. He had been going off physical and vocal cues, relying on the purring and moaning to guide him, but there was always the chance he had missed something while he was lost in pleasure and instinct. Better to check.

 

Zim gave a brief nod before resting his head once again against Dib's chest. He did not really have the words to describe just how much that had meant to him and how good for him it had been. Good did not come close to describing it. He dropped his hand back down to trace the line of the human's collar bone with his fingertips as he breathed a contented sigh.

 

“It was more than okay, Dib-mate,” he said as he pressed a bit closer to the boy trying to steal the warmth from his skin. Zim purred quietly, the pink blush returning to his cheeks as he thought back on the experience and replied, “It was wonderful.”

 

Dib hummed softly at Zim's words, giving him a little squeeze before he removed his glasses, setting them off to the side. Dib turned, pulling Zim with him, so he could lay on his back with Zim curled on his chest. He grabbed the blanket that had wound up shoved off to the side, tugging it over Zim but making sure that the bulk of his own body was free, taking in the air and the cool feeling of Zim's skin against his own.

 

“I'm glad,” he murmured, placing a kiss to Zim's head before settling back into the pillow and letting his eyes slip closed. It was an amazing experience--perhaps his favourite sexual encounter with Zim to date. Zim's first that he would remember; knowing the Irken would wake up tomorrow remembering this, feeling Dib's hands on him, gave Dib far more satisfaction.

 

He let himself settle and relax, knowing that soon Zim would slip into sleep.

 

The Irken had absolutely no intention of sleeping, regardless of how warm and comfortable he was pressed up against his mate, surrounded now by the thick quilt Dib had pulled over him. Even in the bliss of this afterglow Zim had not forgotten what had happened the last time he had made the mistake of falling asleep and leaving the boy to his own devices.

 

He would not be caught unawares again.

 

He did, however, settle in to relax against his fiancé, enjoying the moment while simultaneously making sure that his PAK kept him completely conscious. As he rested the smaller male tilted his head up just a bit to look the human in the face as he asked, “And was it good for Dib-thing? Zim was to your satisfaction?”

 

Dib hummed softly as Zim settled into him, trailing his fingers along his shoulder. “Zim, that was--you were incredible. I loved every second.”

 

He didn't know that Zim had no intentions of sleeping, but he did know that he didn't want to, either. Nights were always the hardest. However, he wasn't sure he'd be able to convince his body to stay up, considering his state of relaxation and how much energy he'd just expended through their lovemaking. “I love _you_ ,” he added, kissing Zim's forehead gently.

 

The Irken chittered softly at the kiss, smiling at the sweetness of it. It had been so hard to deal with Dib as he had been those long weeks in the Voot. But this. This tenderness and passion. That was what Zim had remembered of his boyfriend from all those years ago. They settled into the position, neither of them willing to surrender to sleep, much as they used to in school. Before there would be the ambient sound of Mysterious Mysteries reruns playing on Dib's television set as they laid in his bed and talked until the sun would peak over the horizon.

 

The television was replaced with the whirr of machinery and there was no sunrise to speak of, but the pair laid in the dimly lit room, clinging to one another and simply talked to one another for hours. Discussing everything and nothing in softly whispered tones, plans for their future, gentle ‘I love yous’ and moments of silence where they could just appreciate the fact that they were both here, alive and together.

 

They settled into a new routine, gradually and with some awkwardness to start. Day cycles spent organizing the ship, making it truly their own while Zim taught his brilliant and always eager to learn mate the intricacies of the machinery, how to pilot the ship and maintain it. Their lessons were often interrupted by the antics of the faculty SIR unit on board, but even those steadily became part of the routine, endearing ones at that.

 

Night times were spent making love, exploring each other curiously and methodically. Relearning who they were and deciding who they wanted to be in those still and quiet hours. By the time that they approached their first stop on the way to Neibru, a small desert planet on the very outskirts of the Irken empire, Zim felt as though they had finally begun to truly understand one another and that he was beginning to understand what it meant to marry the human, to be his mate. No longer just words and promises, but the blissful reality of what his life had become.

 

Dib was more than pleased at their new routine. In fact, he felt revitalized travelling space with his fiancé and even with GIR. Dib cooked for them, they both kept the ship clean, Zim set it up exactly how they would like it. This ship had become their home, a home that they could travel galaxies with and explore the universe.

 

They did have a few hard nights. Neither he nor Zim slept very well, and Dib could understand why, although he still had difficulty articulating it. For the most part, making love every night seemed to settle their souls, bind them together. They both got the physical releases they needed to cope, to process, including the pain and sight of blood that they'd recently learned helped Dib through his night terrors. He woke up to the image of their deaths frequently, flooded with guilt.

 

The nights were difficult, sure, but their lovemaking was healing and settling into their travel together was exactly the life that Dib wanted. Zim seemed happier, he felt more and more like himself each passing day, and GIR was, for the most part, his own crazy self.

 

Dib had been starting to learn the mechanics of the ship, even piloted for a while. Other than that, he practiced languages with Zim and that new visor Zim bought from Ti. They were having _fun_ again, and that was the most important thing.

 

Now, almost arrived at their first pit stop, Dib was laying on the floor of the bridge, his feet up against the wall, writing in a notebook. He was humming to himself, some stupid love song from Earth stuck in his head, doing some mathematical work for the first time in four years. He was even having fun with it--seeing what kind of upgrades they could manage on the ship.

 

He was, however, having a difficult time focusing with the knowledge that they were about to start landing and that they were one step closer to Neibru. Zim had grown tired of his infernal questioning, however, so Dib was attempting to distract himself as best he could with other work.

 

Zim had no shortage of tasks with which to distract himself. This ship. Just like any other machine and home required daily maintenance to keep it running smoothly and keeping it clean. It was quite useful, whenever he allowed himself to fall too far into his own thoughts, there was something to be done to once again push those thoughts to the back of his mind. His biggest and most thorough distraction was his mate.

 

He used almost every bit of maintenance as a learning opportunity for the boy, when he was learning, his mind preoccupied with a task, the boy was happier too, less prone to melancholy and even more dangerous thought processes.

 

It was for the best that the both of them remain busy.

 

Just as the Irken had today, finally completing the task of storing all of their supplies, their cargo bays now empty and everything in its proper place. It had been quite an arduous task, but they had discovered early into it that it was for the best for Zim to be in charge of the organization.  Dib had far less care as to where things were placed, whereas Zim was compulsive and quite particular.

 

Zim stepped out of the cargo bay and stopped by the bathroom to grab a rag to dab at the sweat that trickled down his neck from the exertion of his task. Once the fluffy, unsurprisingly pink, cloth was in his hand he made his way to the bridge where he found his fiancé lounging on the floor scribbling in the pages of notebook.

 

He smiled at the sight and then flopped into the captain's chair and threw his legs up over the armrest. Heaving a heavy sigh as he allowed himself to sit for the first time since the day cycle had started Zim asked his mate curiously, “What are you working on, Stink?”

 

Dib didn't hear Zim join him on the bridge and flop into his seat. Generally, Zim was fairly quiet anyway unless he desperately wanted attention--which was often, depending on the occasion. Now, however, Zim could have stormed the bridge, guns blazing, and Dib may not have heard him. At his voice, though, Dib perked up, dropping his head back into the floor and looking upsidedownishly at his fiancé.

 

“Huh? Oh. Uh,” he laughed somewhat bashfully, running his fingers through his hair and glancing back at his notes briefly, before dropping them onto his chest and returning his gaze to Zim. “I was actually looking at the holodeck the previous owners kinda started on. I'm not sure what they were trying to accomplish, but I don't think it would've been entirely functional. Or, not at the place it could've been. But I think I've just about figured it out. I'm having a hard time focusing, though.”

 

Dib dropped his legs down from the wall, stretching out all the way on the floor before he sat up and stood, bringing his notes over to Zim, immediately sticking the end of his pencil into his mouth to gnaw on it. “Here,” he said, holding the notebook out for Zim, but momentarily snatching it back. “There's some. Uh. Shit poetry in there. Maybe don't flip the pages,” he said, handing it back with a flush to his cheekbones.

 

He wasn't entirely sure he could convince Zim not to peek, but still. He figured he'd made some good progress.

 

The Irken straightened himself slightly as Dib stood and made his way over to where he sat. He was not entirely surprised that the human had been working on concepts to finish the holodeck. He had endured a vast number of questions about how they function over the last few days, many of which he had no answer for. Finally, he had decided that the most helpful thing he could do for his mate was to teach him how to use the computer systems to find the answers on his own.

 

He was sure that on this and many other topics Dib would soon excel, dwarfing his own expertise by comparison.  

 

Zim reached out to take the notebook, chuckling when it was snatched back from him before he could even get his claws on it. At the boy's reasoning his antennae perked curiously and the Irken raised a brow before yanking the notebook out of his fiancé's hand before Dib could prevent it again.

 

He opened the notebook to the mathematical equations and designs, flashing a smile up at his mate and knowing full well that he would be reading the poetry immediately after looking over the design. Overall, he couldn't see any glaring flaws, but he knew that there would be some trial and error involved in the actual programming aspects. There were likely to have a handful of less than perfect holograms before they figured it out entirely.

 

There was one other slight hold up with the production of a fully-fledged holodeck, “These computers will be very expensive, Dib-thing. I do not know that we have enough left to get the lot. We are going to have to figure out income sooner rather than later. Particularly if we are looking at renovation.”

 

Dib frowned at Zim's response. He figured that at some point they would need to figure out some kind of source of finance, but he hadn't given it much thought. He had hardly even considered the fact that they would need money to do things. “Hm. That's true,” he started, “I'm sure we can figure something out though. I don't know. What do you have in mind?”

 

Dib shimmied away from Zim, popping into the other seat and crossing his arms high on his chest. “And does it look okay? I've spent so long on that I think I've stopped seeing it objectively now. How long until we reach that planet? What was it called again?”

 

Zim had become rather accustomed to the way that Dib would send not just one but at least half a dozen questions his way at any given time. This was not exactly new, but now they were topics that he actually had some knowledge about as opposed to silly questions about Earth cryptids and the goings on of human life. He smiled softly and reassured the boy, “From what I can tell, it looks like a solid design, Stink. And we will figure out how to get it done.”

 

He then flipped a little further into the notebook, glancing at the words scribble in margins, little poems and doodles. As he glanced at the pages he rattled off, “Our first stop is going to be a planet called Malon Prime. It is not much to look at, but we will be able to refuel. It is on the edge of the Empire. I don't think it has been occupied since Operation Impending Doom One.”

 

He lifted his gaze to peek at the human and gave a shrug, “As far as employment goes. We have a cargo ship. It would make sense to run cargo.”

 

Dib rolled his eyes, unsurprised when Zim began flipping through the rest of the pages. He tended to flood each page with information; when he was done working out whatever math or experiment, he was working on, he'd fill in any blank space with doodles or songs or poems, or other equations, until the page looked like a garbled mess. Some days, his head sure felt that way.

 

He didn't try to take the notebook back, however, just settled awkwardly into his seat, trying to loosen his crossed arms. Sometimes it felt like he forgot how to be natural. “That would make sense. Where are we going to get cargo to run, though? This isn't exactly my area of expertise,” he chuckled.

 

Dib glanced at the control panel. They were almost within landing range, which meant they'd actually have to pilot the ship into landing on Malon Prime. He wasn't sure what to expect from an Empire-owned planet, even if it was no longer occupied.

 

After a minute or two of his snooping Zim closed the notebook and set it down, turning his attention instead to the control panel, taking the ship off of autopilot and taking the manual controls as he spoke to his mate, “Finding cargo to move is easy enough. At the shipyards we stop at there will often be people wanting to transport goods, sometimes wanting to transport themselves.”

 

It did not take long for the Irken to touch down into the shipyard of Malon Prime, settling their ship into a fueling station. The entire planet seemed dead, desert landscapes as far as the eye could see, red sand and rolling dunes surrounding what looked to be a quickly drying oasis. The settlement that had popped up around the meager watering hole looked as though there was very little left to it. The only thing that was keeping them running was the fueling station, being able to keep a steady trickle of travelers stopping in on their way through the stars.

 

Zim was unsurprised to see a large and imposing Irken insignia emblazoned onto the side of the fueling station, the only seemingly well-maintained building in sight.

 

He let out a soft sigh and turned to the human as he shut off the engines and stood, straightening the seam of his purple jumpsuit. While it was true that he did not look like an invader any longer, he could not help but feel a flutter of nerves at the thought of stepping into Irken territory. As he slipped his visor over his eyes Zim cautioned, “Dib-thing, we will want to put on our body armor before leaving the ship.”

 

Zim made his way to the storage cupboards near the entryway of the bridge, pulling both of their deceivingly lightweight chest plates out of it, tossing one to Dib and adding, “And make sure to bring your blaster.”

 

Dib looked at Zim in confusion when he was told that they'd need their armor. He was confused, but he also was by no means an idiot. He could extrapolate why, and the thought immediately made him nervous. What were they going to see or be faced with when they exited the ship?

 

The human frowned as he followed after Zim, catching the armor and looking it over. He didn't know that they'd actually be using these. At least, not so soon. He didn't speak, however, opting to let the tension fill the ship as he put on the body armor, making sure his blaster was strapped to his hip underneath his now-washed trench coat, safety on. He didn't want to use it unless absolutely necessary.

 

He wasn't surprised by the desert-like atmosphere and environment of the planet, but he was interested in seeing what this little corner was like, away from the fuel station. From the sounds of things, Zim would have no intentions on letting Dib wander, most definitely not by himself. If this planet was Irken-governed, at least in part, he wondered if they spoke the language. He was quickly realizing he wasn't sure what this all meant.

 

Once they were ready, he followed Zim toward the ramp, brow still furrowed. Finally, unable to keep in his questioning, Dib stopped Zim by grabbing his wrist. “Is there something you've been refraining from telling me? What are we walking into here?”

 

Zim slipped on his own armor, calling for his SIR unit as his mate followed along after him. Truth be told he had not hidden anything about this from his fiancé, he had answered every question the boy asked about the reality of the Irken empire. But he had not necessarily delved into what it was that Irk tended to leave behind.

 

As the Irken picked up his robot, who was certainly not hiding his excitement of going outside, Zim turned to his mate and gave a soft sigh. He lifted one hand to vis visor, pressing a small button on the side and ordering, “Computer. Show me Malon Prime, star date negative five zero nine zero seven two-mark Organic Sweep.”

 

When the desired files came up, he slipped the device off his brow and passed it to the human. The video was a documentation of the Irken Armada closing in on what was, at the time, a lush, green and thriving planet. As the video played for his mate Zim explained, “That is what Irk does. Rid the planet of unnecessary organic life.”

 

As their cargo bay opened, filling the airlock space with desert heat and glaring light the Irken finished, “And this is what it leaves. The precautions are because we might find that I am less than welcome.”

 

Dib hesitantly accepted the visor from Zim, slipping it overtop his glasses to watch the video feed as Zim spoke. His jaw dropped, slowly, and he removed the visor with just as careful consideration, momentarily shielding his eyes from the wave of light opening to them. He stared out at the planet--a complete one-eighty of what he had seen on the visor.

 

The last vigor this planet held was in the eyes of the Armada coming in to tear it down. It was quiet, Dib realized, far too quiet. The environment had completely shifted, almost unrecognizable to what he'd seen on the visor. If he'd been shown the video with no context, he may have not believed they were even the same planet.

 

“That's horrific,” he muttered, following Zim off the ship and understanding why Zim would be nervous, would want to ensure his own safety while they fueled up.

 

Dib, however, had different intentions. He wanted to find the closest person he could, talk to them. Hear their side of the story. Not that Zim was denying anything Irk had done, nor could he see Zim defending their actions--not these days. But he knew he couldn't just run off, not if there was a chance, he could put his fiancé in danger for doing so.

 

The human clenched his fists, looking out into the area, a frown tainting his expression. He had too many questions and didn't know what exactly to do with himself. Dib turned when he caught movement in the corner of his eyes, catching sight of two aliens approaching them.

 

“Zim,” he warned, quietly, although he didn't see weapons in their hands and figured immediately, they weren't in danger, per se. But it'd be best if they weren't snuck up on, and he'd wait for Zim to speak first. He didn't know what language they'd use; his fluency was still quite lackluster at best.

 

The Irken had glanced over at his mate at the mention of his name, quickly following the path of the boy's eyes to where the two males were walking toward them. The pair were short, squat and incredibly dirty. He recognized them immediately as Malons, the natives of the planet, the specific ridging of their foreheads and wide noses very typical of the race, or more accurately the endangered species. Their skin was peppered with sores and scabs, the result of nearly a century of radiation from drilling into the dead planet, on the orders of Irk which covered the natural resources.

 

Zim shifted GIR on his hip and raised one hand in peaceful greeting, hoping the best for this interaction. He stepped off of the cargo ramp as they approached and spoke to him in Malonian. It was not a language that he knew, but his PAK made quick work of the nearly aggressive words, “What do you want?”

 

He replied in the same language, or at least a passable version of it, thanks to his translator, “All that we require is fuel, then we will be gone from your planet.”

 

One of the Malons narrowed his eyes at the Irken, spitting on the ground at Zim's feet. Zim did not flinch at the action however his antennae twitched in irritation and he slips instead into the scathing chittering language that was Irken, his eyes narrowed at the pair, “If you do not want our monies for fuel, by all means, continue what you are doing.”

 

Dib watched the interaction between Zim and the two Malons, his shoulders tense. With the earpiece attachment on his glasses, he could well understand what they were saying, but had no ability to speak.

 

That was, of course, before one of the men spit on the ground and Zim slipped into his natural tongue. He left slightly odd, stepping between the two of them and feeling more than a little out of place. He knew, however, that this would spell bad news for everyone if this descended into a fight. He was sure Zim could hold his own, and they both had their guns. But Dib didn't want to reinforce harmful stereotypes of Irken people.

 

In _his_ best Irken, Dib spoke, raising his hands in a peacekeeping motion, “Let's all take a step back and have a breath. _Take_ a breath.” He heard the failure in his speech instantly and corrected it, but winced, knowing it could very well fault his image. “We are really not here to cause trouble.”

 

He looked at the Malons, unsure if what he was saying would sway them at all. He lowered his hands and relaxed his shoulders, taking a deep breath, trying to force his body language into that of peaceful calm. He wasn't sure it worked, but it was all he got.

 

Zim had been prepared to stand his ground against the Malons, but he quieted when his mate stepped in front of him. The human towered above all of them, now cleaned up, in armor and sporting a blaster on his hip, he seemed a rather imposing figure. His words, while a little clumsy were enough to prevent the Irken from lashing out further in that moment.

 

He did not want to fight, after all. He had simply wanted to fuel up and be on their way. And the last thing he wanted was to put his mate and GIR in any kind of danger. The Malons seemed to shift their attention to the human, the one whom had spit as Zim's feet still glowering as he snapped back, now in Irken, “You do not want any trouble, eh? Trouble is all that comes from Empire rats. You think we were looking for trouble when your Empire swept our planet? Or when they abducted the soldiers we had left? You best turn and get back into your ship, rat.”

 

At this Zim did speak up, setting GIR down and stepping around his mate in order to square up against the larger alien, “We are not affiliated with The Empire,” with as much pride and determination as he could muster, he placed a hand on his own chest and reiterated, “Do I look like a drone to you? I am defective.”

 

“It is not my empire, either,” Dib said, not taking a step back as the man turned to him, holding his ground but trying to stay relaxed. He looked over at Zim as he spoke, hoping that things wouldn't continue to escalate.

 

What would he do if he came face to face with one of his cryptids? The older he got, the less he cared about stupid shit like dissections and studies. He wanted to _know_ them. Understand them. Maybe he could use this as a learning opportunity?

 

“What are your names? Why don't you tell me what's been done here? I--I saw a video. This doesn't even look like the same planet. I just can't comprehend it.” Dib shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets and eyeing the two men sympathetically. The last thing he wanted was to offend them further, so asking about history might be a risk. He could feel Zim's eyes boring into the back of his skull. _Just trust me_ , he thought, _I know what I'm doing. Mostly._

 

Not that he expected Zim to hear his silent reassurance. He knew his vocabulary was oddly casual for the Irken language, and a little muddled, but practice makes perfect. He didn't want to sound official, anyway. He stood, hoping against all hope he could attempt to mediate.

 

The taller of the two Malons took another moment to glance up and down Dib, measuring him up- his eyes lingered for several beats on the blaster at his hip. He finally retorted, “Name’s Svell and that is a stupid question, boy. You know damn well what happened. Irk happened.”

 

Svell spat once more on the ground, as if the very mention of the word left a sour taste in his mouth. He gestured toward the fuel station and added, “They swept our lands. Killed our soldiers. Destroyed our history. Drained our planet of every last resource. But the _benevolent_ Empire left us with this radiation heap that has poisoned our water and people.”

 

At his companion's words the second Malon slid his hand to his hip, resting it on his own blaster, not drawing it, but certainly taking an offensive stance should things continue to escalate.  Svell, however, pointed a stubby and dirty finger toward Zim and snarling, “One Irk is the same as any other. Sooner slit your throat than shake your hand, nothing but evil and circuit boards.”

 

Dib may have been basically blind without his glasses, but he certainly wasn't an idiot. He caught the glance to his blaster and, while he listened, carefully removed it from his holster and setting it aside on the nearest surface, out of immediate range. He wanted to prove he intended no harm, no firefight. He didn't expect Zim to do the same, but he glanced at his fiancé awkwardly as Svell spoke.

 

“The Invaders, the Armada, have absolutely done horrible things. From what I know, what I've seen, and what I've heard, the Empire is corrupt in its power. And I'm sorry for what they've done to you,” Dib began, thinking his next words carefully before he continued, reaching down and taking Zim's hand in his own, an affectionate display he wasn't sure the Malons would have ever seen from an Irken and another race, or perhaps would never have considered a possibility.

 

The human continued, “But I do know that not all Irkens are like that. Zim isn't. You heard what he said, he's considered ‘defective’. The other Irken I've met is, too, Tak. The only other Irken I know of might not be considered defective, but from what I know he's quite kind. And they're not all Invaders, either. I think there's a large unequal distribution of power and a corrupt system in place. One that's absolutely caused severe damage to many peoples and planets.”

 

Dib paused again, adjusting his footing. He knew he often had a tendency to yammer. He took the chance to eye up the two Malons. Svell looked slightly more relaxed, but the other could be aggressive at any moment, but Dib wanted to make sure they knew he meant no harm.

 

“I know words mean very little here, especially from some random human and an ex-Invader. But I am sorry for what's happened here and what's been done, to your planet and the others, and if there was anything I could do, I would.”

 

Zim had listened while his mate spoke his mind but by the end of it the Irken was pulling at the human's hand softly and said, “Dib-thing, let us just leave. We will fuel at the next planet, I have no patience for these _pork beasts_.”

 

While Zim was ready for this failed interaction to come to a close, something that the pair has said seemed to spark an ounce of recognition between the two aliens, who glanced at each other with curiously raised brows. The second Malon, who had until this point remained silent asked in near disbelief, “Zim? _The_ Invader Zim? I thought he was dead.”

 

The Irken's antenna twitched in irritation before he shot back in a low voice, “Well, sorry to disappoint.”

 

The Malon took another step towards the pair, balking as he said, “You killed _two_ Tallests. Destroyed the Irken home world. Then single handedly destroyed almost the entire Irken militia during Operation Impending Doom One, you prevented the deaths of billions upon billions of people.”

 

Svell shot the younger Malon a glance and he quieted, seeming to shy away. Zim however turned his attention to the pair, no longer tugging at Dib's hand as he said, “I am not here to give my life story or to receive yours. Will you or will you not sell us fuel?”

 

With an exasperated sigh Svell took a step back and snapped at the other Malon, “Djinn, get them fueled and out of my sight.”

 

Dib opened and closed his mouth a few times, his brow furrowed as he glanced distressedly between Zim and the two Malons, finally giving a soft but exasperated sigh as he dropped Zim's hand, not allowing himself to be tugged toward the ship any longer.

 

He rebolstered his blaster, tucking it out of sight under his trench coat as Svell walked away, leaving the three of them to refuel and, Dib assumed, to fuck off from their planet.

 

Casting a cautious glance at Zim, knowing this might instigate a frustrating conversation later and a massively irritated fiancé, Dib stepped toward Djinn and asked, still in his best Irken, “What do you know about Zim? Djinn was it?” He asked, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his trench, wanting to keep them out of Zim's immediate grasp so he couldn't so quickly be tugged aside. “It seems his reputation precedes him.”

 

Dib was fascinated. He understood why Irk could be seen as the villains of this galaxy and possibly many more. The Armada seemed to have quite a reach. With Zim's unwillingness to give him in-depth insight into Irk, giving merely small details about his past and quick summations of the horrors he had seen and caused, Dib knew he'd have to rely on his own research and word-of-mouth to get the majority of his information.

 

It would do--and sparked a similar sense of excitement that he got when discovering new things on Earth as a child.

 

Djinn had led the pair towards the rear of the ship where he carefully hooked up the fuel line and began filling the cargo ship. At the human's question he turned, glancing at Zim who had just swooped his SIR unit back into his arms and followed along, uncharacteristically quiet. “I think that everyone knows at least stories. Invader Zim is rather famous. Or infamous, depending on who you are getting the stories from.”

 

The Malon took a lean against the ship and offered the human a smile, “It is thanks to the destruction of the research facilities on Vort that the Resisty was able to form, scientists and soldiers that escaped while the planet was being evacuated and Irk was scrambling to find new Tallests to follow. From then on, he was marked as the unsung antihero of the Revolution. Every time Irk would gain the upper hand, it was Invader Zim that would level the playing field. When it was publicly announced that he-- you were dead, the Resisty mourned the loss. I even lit a candle for you.”

 

Dib shook his head as he followed Djinn and listened. “I had no idea. I didn't even imagine, but honestly--” he turned to Zim with a bit of a goofy grin that was only slightly muted by the expression on Zim's own features, “Knowing Zim, I'm not surprised he's become kind of legendary.

 

“What can you tell me about your people? Has anyone other than the Resisty tried to fight against the Armada?” Dib asked, leaning against the slip and watching Djinn intently. He hadn't paid much attention the last time they fueled the ship, but there was significantly less to observe here.

 

Dib turned, coughing hard into the crook of his arm. “Christ,” he muttered in English, then continued in their shared language, “The air really is heavy here. When did Irk leave?”

 

Djinn grinned at the line of questions, seemingly happy to have someone to talk to. It seemed that he did not often get the chance to give his opinion. He thought for a moment and then replied, “I do not actually know much of my people. I was born long after Irk had come and gone. Our history is passed down just by stories from our elders, but there aren't many left from before the sweep.”

 

At this Zim gave a soft sigh and replied quietly, “The Malons used to be a peaceful race, shamanistic culture very nature focused. Barely able to even put up a fight against the Armada. Irk came to this planet because the soil could be used to grow the plants used to make Irken uniforms and the like. The plant has the unfortunate side effect of draining the soil of minerals, leaving it dead and unable to produce any kind of agriculture. Irk would have moved on once the soil was no longer of use to them, but the natural gases could still be harvested, thus the fuel station. I doubt Irk has even sent a representative here in the last fifty years.”

 

The Malon nodded in agreement as he moved to detach the fuel line from their ship. Once he had he turned to the human and added, “The air is heavy from the sulfur and radiation output by the fuel station. It is not something you get used to.”

 

Dib continued to listen intently, the tickle in his throat not quite clearing despite his cough, simultaneously wanting to stay and talk to Djinn as well as get off this planet as fast as possible. By now he figured he had a good idea of what was happening--and how to help--but he knew Zim would _not_ like it. It'd be a conversation for later.

 

“It sounds like your planet, and many others, have been through a horrible amount of devastation. It's sad, and sickening. Thank you for speaking with me about it and sharing your insights, even those about Zim. I'm glad this conversation turned into something productive,” he finished, waiting for the Malon to finish up before extending his hand, offering to shake it: an action of respect and solidarity on Earth, glad to have met the kid.

 

Now that he actually took a minute to look at him, he could tell he was young. The sores and damage from the radiation and toxic gases must be seriously detrimental to the health of those living on this planet. If they were shamanistic people, they may not have even been introduced to the guns and blasters until Irk's arrival--now kept for protection against outsiders.

 

He almost felt ashamed and saddened that he couldn't do more. This was going to be a tough conversation with Zim.

 

Djinn glanced down at the human's outstretched hand for just a moment before taking it in his own hand, giving it a firm shake saying to the human, “The pleasure was mine. And I apologize for my father. He is old, and grudges die hard. Try not to think too badly of him. He is really a decent man.”

 

The young Malon turned to the Irken, as he released Dib's hand and said with near reverence that made Zim wholly uncomfortable, “I am glad you are not dead. You will be a great source of hope for the resistance.”

 

At the words, Zim visibly bristled, his antennae flattened against his skull. He handed over his payment but as it was returned, he replied in little more than a whispered hiss, “Invader Zim is dead.”

 

With that he turned on his heel and marched back toward the open bay of their ship shouting over his shoulder, “It is time to leave Dib. Now.”

 

Dib cast an awkward glance at Djinn, nodding quickly. “No harm, no foul,” he muttered, before turning on his heel and following quickly after Zim and onto the ship.

 

As Zim closed the bay door, Dib trailed along silently, an anxious expression on his face. He was fidgeting, picking at his cuticles and working them together nervously. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, attempting to find the words, knowing that this was going to be a fight. Even he could feel the anger radiating from Zim’s pores.

 

“Zim, I--” he started, in Irken, having adjusted to the language, before switching back to English. “I think we should help these people. Before you say anything,” he rushed, “I know it’s not our job and you don’t really like doing that sort of thing. But… this is a cargo ship. What better way to help than by shipping cargo and relief aid to all of these out skirting planets that Irk’s destroyed? I mean, look at these people. How many more planets are affected like this? We could help them. Do some good. Like, Robin Hood and Little John. Stealing from the rich and giving to the poor.”

 

Dib offered an extremely awkward, teeth-gritting grin, sinking into the copilot chair and almost recoiling into it, preparing himself for whatever it was Zim was going to say.

 

Zim had led the way to the bridge, sitting down in the captain's chair before placing GIR on the ground at his feet. The Irken turned his attention to the control panel, checking the fuel levels as his mate spoke. When Dib sat down beside him Zim swiveled his chair, folding one arm across his chest while the other tapped thoughtfully at his chin which sported a nearly venomously sweet smile. When he responded he did not bother switching back to English, instead he chittered at his fiancé in quick and biting Irken.

 

“Of course,” he cooed in mock approval. “Let us empty our supplies for this blight of a town. Perhaps they can have a decent meal or two. Let us steel ourselves against the Empire. Become the new-found poster boys of the resistance, beacons of hope in the darkness of a war a millennium old. Perhaps we should rally an army. Raze the Massive to dust. Perhaps Dib, Defender of the Universe is a more suitable title. Will you be satisfied with Red and Purple kowtowing to you? Rebuild the Empire under your benevolent rule? Trade in your jacket for the robes of a Tallest?”

 

Zim leaned forward in his seat tilting his head in faux confusion, his voice getting consistently louder as he spoke, “Or perhaps this is not about Dib being the savior of the Universe. Perhaps this is Dib wanting to be the savior of Zim. Facilitate my redemption. See me lifted onto a pedestal as the defect that had the courage to stand up against the Empire. The Irk with a heart, who sails across the universe aiding those who the Empire has wronged. Perhaps you have decided that regardless of Zim wanting to lead a quiet life, away from the Empire, the Resisty and everything between - maybe Dib has decided that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of Zim.”

 

Zim sat back in his chair, closing his eyes and rubbing the tension out of his temples wearily as he finished, “I was supposed to be dead, Dib. Did you forget that we are supposed to be on the lam? Not drawing attention to ourselves? My Tallests hate me more than any other being in existence. Were they to catch wind of my continued existence we would have the whole of the Empire tracking us.”

 

Dib was cringing the entire time Zim spoke, sinking further and further into his seat, especially as his fiancé's venomous voice boomed louder the more irritated, he became. For the post part, Dib understood the frustration, but there was another part of him that knew they could do some real good. When he continued talking, it was still in English, his voice exasperated but figured the language would better suit a softer tone.

 

“Zim, it was purely by accident that they knew who you are, that your name was mentioned. I wasn't thinking. I can be more careful of it in the future. We can stay in hiding. But I think we can really do so much good here, and I'm sure we can do that under the radar. I'm not saying like, dive right in and tear down the Armada. And there is no way I'd want to take the place of the Tallests, do you think I'm stupid? I don't want, or need, that kind of power.”

 

By the end of Dib's comments, his voice had gotten louder, too, purely by accident and purely out of passion. His arms tightened in their cross over his chest, brow furrowed. “The needs of the many _do_ outweigh us, Zim. Not just you, not just me. I'm not saying we need to make ourselves broke in an attempt to save all the planets destroyed by Irk. I want to survive, too, you know. And have fun and explore. But I can't just sit by quietly watching this shit happen and knowing how many peoples are getting seriously hurt because of the Armada. Because of Irk.

 

“And you're kind of given a great opportunity here, Zim. Maybe we use pseudonyms. Maybe we keep pretending to be dead. Maybe we fly under the radar. But what's the point if we can't have fun and relax and help people along the way?”

 

“A great opportunity?” Zim baked at the comment, his already flattened antennae twitching angrily, “And what makes you think I want this opportunity, Dib? Up until literally the day I was captured by your father's men I was attempting to do this,” he gestured with a sweeping hand out the window, “to your planet.”

 

The Irken laughed incredulously before he continued, “I never wanted to be _the antihero of the resistance._ I never wanted to help a single one of these poor bastards. Every act of _hope_ they are clinging to, acts of destruction against the Empire were nothing more than my own incompetence as I tried to climb the ladder of Irken command and become the greatest Invader of them all. Do you think that I have ever given a single compassionate thought to the radiation death of Malon Prime? No, what mattered to me was that I had a soft and durable uniform to wear. Not only one. I had twenty. Twenty uniforms made off of the slave labor and destruction of this and countless other planets.”

 

Zim let out a heavy sigh, keeping his eyes trained out the window as he finished, “You and that boy and any others who might have lit a candle to mourn the passing of Zim - you act as though being this defective wretch is something I wanted. I never meant to level the playing field. I certainly did not mean to kill Tallests Spork and Miyuki.  They were accidents. I am not Robin Hood. I never wanted to be. I always wanted to be Prince John.”

 

While Zim was speaking, Dib kept attempting to open his mouth and interrupt, add something, suggest something else, ask a question. Zim continued speaking however, not leaving an opening for Dib to get a word in edge-wise. He saw the annoyance in Zim's body language. Heard the frustration in his voice.

 

He knew what it was like to lose your identity. He'd been there. He spent six years not knowing who he was anymore, and he still didn't. He hadn't figured it out yet.

 

“I'm sorry you never got to be the thing you wanted. An Invader. I might not understand why you would want to be that. I can't. I'm human, it's just--not something I think I'll ever know. But I do know that not being able to achieve your lifelong dream? Yeah. That fucking sucks. I know I can't replace that for you. I just--I think it'd be good for us to have some kind of… Purpose.”

 

Dib paused, rubbing the stubble on his chin for a moment before he stood, slowly making his way over to Zim's chair, sliding down into a crouch next to it, but not turning Zim to face him. “Good for _me_ , maybe.”

 

Here, the human took Zim's hand gently in his own. “I'll always be here with you. You're the most important thing to me. I'm not trying to change your entire mindset, not in a day, certainly not one conversation, and not even really at all. But Christ, just think about it at least. I can't give all of those things back to you. It's impossible. But maybe we can put that energy in a different direction. Together.”

 

Zim had sat, glaring out the window as the human spoke. Actively formulating his counter arguments, but then the boy did something that was frustrating beyond all description and entirely disarming. He made this whole ordeal about his own mental health and sanity.

 

The Irken had already proven what lengths he would go to to stop the boy from spiraling and hurting himself. He had compromised his own sense of comfort to make sure that Dib could live a remotely healthy life with him. Zim knew immediately that he would do whatever the boy asked when it was presented as it being legitimately _good for him_.

 

The Irken turned his head just a fraction of an inch to be able to look at his mate through the periphery of his vision and let out a defeated sigh. He pushed himself out of the seat and walked around his mate without another word, making his way to their supply closet. Zim pulled out two of the six survival packs they had stowed away and tossed them over his shoulder, stomping loudly toward the cargo bay.

 

He opened the door, unsurprised to see that the young Malon had not yet returned to his other chores in favor of taking in the ship of, for some god-awful reason, one of his idols. Once it was opened fully Zim tossed the two bags into his arms and called out in Malonian, just barely loud enough for him to hear, “Viva la Resisty, or whatever.”

 

He didn't take the time to gauge the boy's reaction before closing the door and stomping back onto the bridge and placing himself back into the captain's chair and bringing the engines to life.

 

Dib was worried at first when Zim stood and walked away from him, just a glimmer of hope in his chest from the Irken's sigh. He could be misunderstanding, and this would be an abrupt end to their discussion as his fiancé pulled an old trick and simply walked away when he wasn't willing to discuss any further.

 

Thankfully, Dib's words were a success. He stood, grinning stupidly at Zim as he tossed the supplies out to Djinn. Standing, he gave Zim's hand a warm squeeze before returning to his own seat. “Thank you. I love you.”

 

He stayed quiet from then on, not wanting to test his luck as he counted this particular discussion a win. He'd try and convince Zim of pulling a Robin Hood another time, open the discussion back up _after_ Zim had settled. He didn't want to ask for too much at once.

 

He quickly found however, as was common, he had trouble keeping his big dumb mouth shut. He ventured into further conversation, speaking quietly but quickly. “How long until we need to stop again?”

 

Zim lifted their ship out of the fueling station, only giving a soft grunt of acknowledgment to his lover's thanks. He was grateful when the human seemed to let the topic drop, settling into an almost comfortable silence as they left the atmosphere of the dead planet.

 

At the human's question Zim turned his attention to the itinerary which he had plotted out for them answering back wearily, “Two weeks.” Once they were in open space the Irken warmed their warp drives and as per his usual fashion commented, almost to himself, “Engaging warp drives, warp speed six point five, heading two sixty-seven mark zero-seven-five.”

 

The ship revved up and shot them forward at breathtaking speed, leaving Malon Prime far behind them. He knew that Dib meant only well, and he knew that the supplies he had given to the boy Djinn, particularly the water purification systems that were within the packs, may have very well given both of those aliens a chance of survival. Now that they had the supplies, they needed to find a way off the planet if they really hoped to live.

 

But Zim had met many individuals of the same ilk of Svell. He was a stubborn old man, clinging to a dying culture and dying land. He was born in that hovel and would likely die there. Zim doubted that he would give his son his blessing to leave either. It was a futile cause.

 

The Irken pulled his legs up into his chair, tucking them close to his chest as he turned his body to face his mate. Zim let out another sigh before speaking, “I need you to know that giving them those supplies will not save them. And Zim did not do that because he cared about them, their lives or the resistance. The only reason I did that was because I care about you.”

 

Dib muttered a soft acknowledgement to Zim's statement, his grin having faded to nothing as Zim spoke. He understood that Zim didn't take that action out of the kindness of his heart. Or spooch. Or whatever it was. Dib knew there were two people in the entirety of the universe Zim would do anything for, and the both of them were in this ship.

 

Kicking his feet onto the panel in front of him, Dib slouched in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest and tugging his trench coat tightly around himself. Logically, he knew that their aid was, in the long run, futile. But he couldn't sit back and do nothing when they had an opportunity to help those in need. What sort of human would he be if he did?

 

Then again, he wasn't sure how much ‘humanity’ he could even attribute to himself these days. They'd been away from Earth for a grand total of three weeks. They left kicking and screaming, disregarded by both of their people. By his own father. Even if Zim did have any semblance of kindness for others, he knew that would have been eviscerated at the betrayal of his people and what had been done to him on Earth at the Foundation.

 

He had a hard time believing in others, too. But he couldn't believe in himself, not anymore. Not after what he'd done, how he failed. How he was so utterly and completely flawed. If he didn't put any good into the universe, how could he expect to find it? Karma, and all that bullshit. Right?

 

Casting only a quick glance at Zim, briefly opening his mouth to speak, he quickly reconsidered his words before actually vocalizing them.

 

“I'm going to get in the shower,” he said, dropping his feet hard to the floor and quickly exiting the bridge, heading toward the bathroom. The tension was giving him a headache.

 

Zim nodded at the declaration of Dib's intent but made no move to stop him, merely curling up a little more on the chair as the human stomped off. He was a bit irritated the Dib would leave in the middle of the conversation, but he was self-aware enough to know that it was something he had frequently done to the human and it was not like he could go very far.

 

His SIR unit had stayed at his side, watching the exchange between the pair in uncharacteristic silence. There were times that even GIR could recognize that his interface would not be well received.  His vibrant blue eyes watched as Dib left the bridge and he turned his grinning face to Zim, opening his head to pull out a blanket which he handed to the Irken.

 

The small act of kindness brought a soft smile to Zim's lips, however bewildered he was at the robot's ability to have stored the item in there to begin with. He took the blanket, draping it over himself and shifting to allow GIR to clamber up with him. The android looked up at the Irken and said, “I like Marry's ideas, Master. I like to help.”

 

Zim tilted his head, placing a hand on top of GIR's metallic skull and quietly replied, “It seems I am outnumbered then. You know this is _mutiny_ , right, GIR?”

 

The only response that he got from the android was a peak of laughter as he was hugged tightly around the middle.

 

Completely unaware of what was happening on the bridge, Dib slipped the bathroom door closed behind him, locking it as he did so. He sighed, leaning momentarily against the door, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. Had he been wrong in wanting to help those Malons? He may have caused a fight for nothing. Maybe it'd be best to give it up, let the argument fall to the wayside and focus his energy instead on himself, Zim, GIR, and the ship.

 

On the other hand, maybe if Zim were more open about why he held the opinions he did, Dib could better understand. He knew of Zim's past, and the fact that Irken's PAKs held specific programming, guiding them toward certain tasks and obediences, but the thought of it made Dib sick to his stomach. He couldn't fathom someone needing that much control.

 

Dib turned on the shower and undressed, setting the temperature to as hot as he thought he could handle, stepping into the high-pressure stream and continuing to let his thoughts wander, replaying their interaction with the Malons and subsequent conversation over and over in his head.

 

He _had_ made assumptions and divulged information without asking Zim if it was okay, or if he should be doing and saying those things. If anything, there was a serious failure in communication between the two of them.

 

Not that they'd ever had an easy time communicating adequately with one another.

 

Again, and again, Dib was proving to himself and Zim that he couldn't make an appropriate decision to save his life. At least this time it didn't _actually_ result in their deaths. Dib tugged at his damp locks in frustration, tilting his head back into the stream of near-scalding water.

 

When Dib had finally cleared his mind enough to actually _clean_ himself, he did so quickly. Once done, he shut off the shower and stepped out, drying himself off and staring at the fogged mirror. He brushed off the condensation, eyeing the still-sunken features of his face only briefly before he tied the towel around his waist and went to get dressed, singing softly under his breath to try and distract himself from much more harmful thoughts.

 

It was something that Zim was grateful for, their ship being large enough that he did not actually hear the water from Dib's shower as he was on the bridge. The sound always set him on edge, but he was able to push it from his mind as he sat with GIR in his lap, listening to the little robot's reasonings for why they should go along with Dib's plans.

 

GIR was not nearly as articulate about it as Dib was, nor was he fueled by a desire for purpose or righting the wrongs of the universe. His reasons could be simply summarized as he just liked to help people. It made him happy to see people happy. Especially to see Zim and Dib happy.

 

The Irken sat, pondering after GIR had quieted. Truly, this white knight act was not something he would choose for himself. It went against everything that he was, or at least what he used to be. But he did not truthfully know who he was any more, had no clue who he was meant to be.

 

It seemed that following Dib's lead might be for the best, seeing as the boy at least had a vague understanding of what he wanted, whereas Zim was flying blind. At least Dib wouldn't be able to say Zim never did anything for him.

 

He heard the bathroom door slide open when Dib was finally done with his shower and the Irken rose from his seat, walking quietly off the bridge toward their bed chamber. He had been about to walk in the room when he caught the sound of his mate singing softly. He had always thought that singing was something Dib was remarkably good at, even if the Irken very rarely paid him any kind of compliment for it. Instead of interrupting Zim stopped in the hallway, taking up a lean beside the door to listen while he waited for the human.

 

Dib, of course, hadn’t heard Zim approaching their room, tugging through bags of clothing he still hadn’t stored properly, wanting to find something a little looser and more comfortable than the jumpsuit they wore onto Malon Prime. He sung quietly, a quite old song from back on Earth, still having not done anything more than dabble in writing any of his own lines, “One night to be confused, one night to speed up truth. We had a promise made, four hands and then away. Both under influence, we had divine scent to know what to say. Mind is a razor blade.”

 

His voice settled into a soft hum as he tugged on a pair of simple black pants and a plain black t-shirt, opting to continue padding round the ship in sock feet for the rest of the day. He felt tired, but didn’t want to sleep--besides, it was technically daytime. Sometimes it was difficult to discern the difference, the only inkling between day and night on the ship was when the lights dimmed at a certain time.

 

He continued the song for another few lines, turning toward the door to exit, “To call for hands of above to lean on wouldn't be good enough for me, no--oh!”

 

Dib jumped as he opened the door and stepped out, catching Zim and GIR standing outside, Zim quite obviously having been listening to him. The human’s cheeks went beet red and he took a step back, bumping into the now-closed door of their bedroom. “H-hey,” he muttered awkwardly, rubbing his bicep and pulling slightly into himself.

 

He hadn’t realized that he’d walked away in the middle of the conversation earlier, having thought that it was pretty much done--Zim had his way, and was probably right to want it that way. Dib didn’t want to try and convince any longer, so he figured a shower and change of clothes might clear his mind. As for the singing, he tended to do so while he worked or when he was thinking, but it did help to signify a shift in mood. He didn’t tend to sing when he was angry.

 

When the human finally stepped out of the bedroom, instantly bashful, Zim flashed him a soft smile and quietly echoed, “Hey…”

 

After just another moment he pushed himself off of the wall and stepped forward to wrap his arms around Dib's waist and pressed his cheek against the boy. He was rarely, if ever the first to apologize after a fight, but he chose in that moment to let his own pride take a back burner and spoke softly, “I am sorry. Zim was out of line, I should not have been so cruel. I know that you mean well.”

 

He pulled away and with an awkward chuckle added, “And it would seem that I have been overruled, in favor of working towards aiding those we can.”

 

“He said it is MUTINY!” GIR offered helpfully, squeaking with laughter.

 

The outburst earned a roll of the eyes from the Irken, but he continued on, “That it is. But I know when I am beat.”

 

Dib smiled weakly when Zim hugged him, looping his arms back around the Irken and giving him a tight squeeze, keeping his head back to avoid water dripping onto Zim’s head. It was definitely uncharacteristic for Zim to be the first to apologize, but Dib wasn’t in any way disappointed by this turn of events.

 

At GIR’s comment, and Zim’s that followed, Dib’s smile turned into a grin. “It’s only mutiny if everyone agrees that _you’re_ the captain,” he jibed, letting Zim pull away and looking down at his fiancé.

 

“Anyway, I don’t mean to disregard where you come from or who you are. I just think it’s a good opportunity to do something productive. Something good. I mean, fuck, we’ve got the entire universe at the tips of our fingers. Why can’t we have it all?”

 

The Irken had been smiling up at the boy but at the comment of everyone needing to agree that he was the captain of the ship for this to be mutiny the smile faded into a look ok mock offense and he raised a brow at the boy as he replied playfully, “Zim is a century older than you. And I have actually undergone military training. Eighty years of it. Of course, I am the captain.”

 

He pulled away, shaking his head with amusement. As he turned to walk back to the bridge he called back, “However, Dib can have his Robin Hoods nonsense. Though I think that just _giving_ to the poor may be a bit of a stretch. We still need to eat, after all.”

 

Dib laughed at Zim's comment, letting him pull away and walk back toward the bridge. At Zim's musings, he was now grinning, not having expected to get his way like this.

 

The human followed after Zim, grabbing his hand and halting his movement, tugging Zim back his arms, PAK digging just slightly into his abdomen, pawing at his fiancé playfully.

 

“Okay then, captain,” he began, sliding his hands all over Zim wherever he could reach, his mood having shifted completely from sour disappointment into a cheeky playfulness. “What do you suggest instead? How can we help people and also have an income for ourselves?”

 

Zim allowed himself to be pulled back into Dib's arms, tilting his head back to be able to look up at the boy with amusement. It was a relief to see that Dib's mood had changed, even though Zim knew that it was due to his own surrender.  

 

There was a lot that he felt like he was sacrificing in this endeavor. Many aspects that had been, up until now core parts of not only his personality, but his genetic makeup. So much that Dib didn't understand.  There was no way that he could understand it. He was human.

 

The Irken had been stripped of everything he was. His identity, his culture, his pride and everything in between. He was broken and defective. An outcast and now, apparently, a rebel. His relationship with Dib on its own solidified these things. But now, he had agreed to actively defect, take action against the command of the Empire. And his Tallests.

 

For as long as he could remember he had wanted nothing more than to make his Tallests proud. Spork and Miyuki were kind to him. They had tried to foster his growth. Miyuki had defended him, given him the opportunity to be a science officer.  He had not meant for them to die. Both of those failed experiments had been done with the sole purpose of showing them that he could live up to the expectations they had set for him. They were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

 

Then there was, Red and Purple.  They weren't only his Tallests, the commanders of his race. But they had been his friends. Or at least, he had thought they were. He had spent his entire time at the academy chasing after them, trying to win their approval and respect. There were times that he thought he had. He could recall vividly sitting alone in the mess hall, having completely blown it in their tactics class. The punishment for it was that he was not given meals that day. But Purple sat next to him, he gave him half of his sandwich. He even chose Zim to be in his squadron the next day.

 

And Red. There were so many times that Red was more than kind to Zim. 

 

They had been so cruel to him on Probing Day those years ago and they obviously hated him at this point in his life. But there was a time when he was certain that they didn't. He would never admit it to his mate that half of his reservation was due to a small flame of loyalty and affection for them that still simmered in his chest. It may not have been deserved, but he could not deny that it was there.

 

Zim pushed the thoughts away, letting himself focus on the human that had him trapped in his embrace, reminding himself that he did not have to question if he had earned Dib's loyalty. He knew the boy would do quite literally anything for him. He thought for just a moment before replying with a grin, “Well, if we steal our products even charging meager prices for them would all be profit. Perhaps there is a morally ambiguous middle ground to be found.”

 

With no insight into Zim's memories or thoughts, Dib grinned into his head at his comment, humming deep in his chest as he considered Zim's proposal. “So maybe not so much Robin Hood, more… Do- good space pirates?” He asked with a laugh, sliding his hands up and down Zim's chest to rest on the Irken's hips for a moment before spinning him around to face him.

 

“I _think_ I can get behind that,” he laughed again, “Yeah. Okay. But we have to make sure that whatever we're selling, we should accept whatever that planet can afford. And--I was thinking about what you said. About our help being futile in the long run. Maybe I can do some research, find ways to actually help these people in the long run.”

 

Dib shrugged abashedly, glancing away from Zim to peer out the window, undistracted by GIR racing circles around the bridge. “It'd give me another project, anyway.”

 

The Irken let himself be spun around, turning lightly on one foot in a halfhearted pirouette to face the human. It seemed as though they would be able to reach an agreement, even though it wasn't anywhere close to a middle ground. Zim did his best to push his negativity, his nostalgia and his doubt to the side, hoping for a brief moment that he might be able to find his own purpose by following the boy's lead.

 

He followed the boy's eyes put the window, watching the stars streak by as he replied, “It is settled then. I will play along. But let us try to be cautious.  The last thing I would want is for the Empire to get a grudge against us.”

 

The Irken pulled himself away from the human and sat down to pull up his computer, putting his somewhat rusty hacking skills to use as he muttered, “Now we just need a target.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this collaborative work between bushidobunny and HawkizeFanfiction. You can follow the blogs that this story came from at https://www.the-great-and-powerful-zim.tumblr.com (bushidobunny) and https://dib-beast.tumblr.com (HawkizeFanfiction). 
> 
> Stay tuned for further adventures from Dib and Zim - and give those blogs a follow for some Grade A tomfoolery.


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